


The Heat

by Samayel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Parseltongue, Rimming, Romance, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayel/pseuds/Samayel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Harry wanted was a way to cool off in the heat of summer, but a chance encounter with Draco slowly becomes a relationship fraught with issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heat Is On

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

A/N: The Heat Series and all episodes thereof have an average rating of NC-17. Some stories in this series may be rated R, primarily for language and implied content rather than graphic content, but the series as a whole is rated NC-17. Thank you. Further, the Heat Series is a continuous story, in eleven seperate short fics, covering a year and a half of Draco and Harry's lives. Enjoy...

 

The Heat Is On! ……By Samayel

 

Harry mopped the sweat out of his eyes and hair. Who could have imagined heat like this in England? It was bloody unbearable! Practicing Quidditch in this heat was almost impossible, and they’d been forced to quit early just to avoid losing team members to heatstroke.

The showers were a brief source of relief, but one couldn’t use them forever. Harry donned his uniform robes and glasses and headed back out into the swelter. It was generally quite hot just as school started, but this year was a record setter, and the rest of Europe was suffering just as badly as England, if not worse. The fact that the torment was shared by everyone didn’t really make it less unpleasant, though.

He hadn’t slept properly all week, and even his normally modest classwork was beginning to suffer. Usually it was bloody Voldemort making it hard to get a decent night’s rest, then the weather had to step up to the plate and take over!

As the day ended and Harry made ready for bed, Ron stepped into their room looking refreshed and content, as well as damp. Harry eyed him suspiciously, wondering what the ginger goof had done to deal with the heat. Everyone else was making do with pathetic Cooling Charms that only lasted an hour or so at most, and then left one instantly sweltering as soon as they wore off. Harry usually woke up and used the spell every two hours. Now that he thought about it, Ron had slept pretty soundly the last few nights, and only seemed to suffer during the worst heat of the day.

Harry was only wearing his pajama bottoms for the sake of modesty, and even those felt like far too much. Watching Ron cheerfully ready himself for bed, seeming unbothered by the heat, was making Harry’s blood boil. His best mate was keeping a secret! That bastard! He had to be up to something, and Harry wanted answers at any cost…now!

“You shit! You absolute shit! You’re holding out on me and you know it! Spill! What’s your secret?!”

Ron looked at Harry in surprise, completely taken aback by the venom in Harry’s voice.

“It’s nothing…what are you on about? I think the heat is getting to you, mate. Just go take a shower and cool off, will you!”

Harry would have believed him, but for the tremor of uncertainty in Ron’s voice. Ron was a lousy liar, and even if he’d gotten better over the years, Harry wasn’t easily fooled.

Harry advanced on his chum, miserable from heat rashes and sick of the unending sticky swelter. He was fed up with the whole miserable process of surviving from shower to shower, and doubly fed up with having been left out of the loop by a friend.

“You’re lying through your teeth! I can tell. I know you, Ron Weasley, and I know when you’re bullshitting me! How fucking dare you have a way to cool off and not tell me! I thought we were mates! Are you a fucking Slytherin now? I’ve saved your bloody life! What the hell are you thinking?!”

Ron cracked under the sudden barrage and flopped onto his bed, face burning crimson with shame.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry mate! Really! I was sworn to secrecy or I swear I’d have told you right away! I felt like crap about it all week, but you know I’d never break an oath on purpose.”

At least Ron looked properly guilt ridden now, and that mollified Harry’s outrage a little. 

“Here’s a free clue on how to make it up to me, mate. Tell me what you’ve been doing. I’m already on to you, and if I track you, I’ll wind up knowing anyway. You know I will. It’s not really breaking an oath if you’ve been caught…especially by a friend you trust. I’ll let this go if you just tell me what you’ve been up to. Okay?”

Harry was still irritated, but the prospect of finally sleeping well and not waking every couple of hours guided him through his interrogation.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone else! Please. They’ll be furious if I spill this and word gets out. Swear it on your wand.” 

Ron’s plaintive tone made Harry relent. Something really interesting was up. Who were these others? Harry picked up his wand.

“I swear I won’t reveal any secret you share with me, unless you give me leave to do so. How’s that?”

Ron sighed relief. “The other Prefects. We’re the only ones who know about this. It’s been a perk of Prefects for who knows how many centuries, and if it were anybody but you, mate, they’d have to torture it out of me.”

Harry listened raptly and nodded for Ron to go on.

“It’s the baths, Harry. The Prefect’s baths have a special spell on them, and it only activates if you have the password while you’re in the bath. It makes the temperature of the bath linger on you for hours afterwards. Better than any Cooling or Heating Charm ever cast. I take three baths a day, and so do all the other Prefects. If this got out, it would start a stampede. There’d be fistfights in the halls. It has to stay secret, or the Heads of House would close the Prefect baths down and stop anyone from using it. If you wanted to stay warm in winter, you’d say ‘Kill the chill’, but for this kind of weather, you say ‘Beat the heat’, and the magic kicks in and does the rest.” 

Harry sat back on his bunk and whistled in amazement. This was better than he’d imagined. Harry grabbed his towel and cloak and made ready to leave. Ron threw in a final warning.

“I was last in the queue for the baths tonight, so the place is all yours now. Just don’t get caught! And if you need to use it during the day, check with me first and I’ll see when there’s an opening. If you make them fast and keep the cloak with you, no one will even know you’ve been there. Enjoy, mate.”

Harry smiled for the first time in days.

“Don’t worry. Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep the secret, and I forgive you for keeping it from me, mate. An oath is an oath, so it’s all good between us. If this works as good as you say, I may even owe you one!”

Harry swung the cloak over his head and slipped away, down the hall and stairs, out of the common room and into the tower halls. It was beastly hot under his cloak, but Harry had a mission and relief was soon to be in sight.

The Prefect’s baths were a welcome sight, and Harry slipped through the entrance with a muttered password and an eager grin. As he closed the door behind him with quiet caution, he peeled off the stifling cloak, hung it up, and turned the corner from the entryway, finally looking into the bathroom proper.

Draco Malfoy stood almost waist deep in the enormous pool, stark naked and gleaming in the rooms enchanted light. Harry wanted to reach for the cloak, and his mind screamed warnings while his eyes locked on Draco’s backside and refused to budge. He should leave, he should run, he should stop…stop looking at…

Draco was beautiful.

The backside of Draco Malfoy possessed no flaw. His blond hair was slicked back and reached to just below his shoulders. Lean muscles played beneath the surface of his back while he scrubbed his chest with a washcloth. His skin was like unmarred porcelain…like ivory…like something precious and beautiful that was meant to be handled with the greatest possible delicacy.

Following the graceful lines of Draco’s neck down the greyhound slender athleticism of his back, Harry ultimately found himself staring in awe at Draco’s arse. The word arse didn’t seem right. Neither did bum or seat or can. Everything he had ever heard in locker rooms fell short of honoring that magnificent sight.

It was as pale and smooth as the rest of Draco’s body, and as soft as it looked, it conveyed the impression of firmness and taut muscle at the same time. Harry was almost oblivious to the fact that his body was responding to what he was looking at, and he was very nearly unaware of the erection tenting his pajamas. He just didn’t care.

Then Draco lifted a leg onto one of the steps leading out of the bath, and Harry suppressed a whimper when he was given a clearer view while Draco washed his leg. Draco’s balls hung down, and just beneath them, the head of Draco’s penis dangled comfortably, obviously soft, and yet clearly visible nonetheless. Erect, it would have to be fairly impressive if it could be seen so easily from this direction.

Harry had come to the conclusion that he was bisexual more than a year ago, but Malfoy had never been part of that equation. Cho Chang was pretty. So was Ginny. And to Harry’s mind, so were Seamus and Oliver Wood. All he’d ever seen of Malfoy was a sneer or a scowl…until now.

The room felt unbearably hot. Harry was aware that sweat was trickling down his nose and tickling his lip, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. At the moment he was lucky he was still able to breathe.

Draco shifted again, this time scrubbing the other leg and foot with thoroughness. When Draco bent to scrub between his toes, his balls quickly canted the other way, and the head of his cock fell against the side of his inner thigh, still wonderfully visible. Draco’s back tensed for just a moment, and then he went back to his task, all the while with his bloody brilliant backside to Harry.

Harry finally snapped out of his trance when Draco wrung out the washcloth with a loud splash. Heart bursting in his chest, he slipped backwards quietly, one step at a time. It was only a couple of steps to the entryway and his cloak. He was almost there when the silence was broken.

“Don’t leave on my account, Potter.” Draco hadn’t turned around at all, and was scrubbing the back of his neck with the cloth, letting cool water drip down his back like a tiny waterfall. His voice was full of familiar irony and contempt.

Harry froze in his tracks, face burning with embarrassment. How long had Draco known he was watching? Had he seen the bulge in Harry’s pajamas? This was fucking humiliating! This could only get worse if half of Slytherin popped out of the walls and started throwing hexes at him. What a fucking disgrace!

Then Draco stood up and stepped out of the bath. Harry’s ability to breathe was suddenly interrupted, and his mind felt like a racecar trapped in first gear, screaming for freedom.

Without so much as a single trace of shame, Draco walked to the bench, his body dripping and glistening as he went, and picked up his towel. Facing Harry unselfconsciously, he rubbed himself dry in a thorough and businesslike fashion, paying Harry no mind whatsoever. When he dried his hair, the front of his entire body was displayed to Harry, and it was every bit as impressive as the back.

An incredibly slender waist, and hipbones that created an enviable V that Harry couldn’t stare at long enough. A tight, smooth stomach and nipples that came to tiny points. Shoulders that were broad despite the rest of his body’s lithe frame. All perfect.

Draco looked Harry in the eyes for the first time when he slid the towel down to dry his groin. Harry was painfully aware of the fact that Draco was rubbing the soft terrycloth of the towel against his private parts…and he was equally painfully aware of the fact that he was suddenly jealous…of the towel!

“Nothing wrong with staring, Potter. I’m well aware of the fact that I look damn good.”

Draco dropped the towel onto the bench and started by picking up his underclothes. Harry finally found his voice.

“I…I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at my bum while I was having a bath?” Draco supplied. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m going to assume you weaseled the secret of this room out of your Gryffindor pals. Nothing too good for the Boy-Who-Lived. Just keep your mouth shut about it so our little comforts don’t end, and I won’t have to hex your bits off.” Draco gave a coy glance in the direction of Harry’s tented pajamas. “Even if it might take more than one hex to do it.” His smirk was genuine while he pulled on his slacks.

Harry relaxed a little as soon as Draco’s genitals were no longer bobbing about in front of him. “Deal. I…uh…I just…wanted to…”

“Take a bath in private, but the view was too nice to ignore? Why, thanks Potter. That’s sweet of you. Do me a favor, will you? I left my robe and coat on the far bench. My comb is in there, and I’m not leaving without finishing my hair. Be a good sport and bring it here, eh?”

Harry blushed, and he couldn’t have guessed why he would go along with anything asked for by Draco Malfoy, but he was too flustered and surprised by Draco’s pleasant, if sarcastic, demeanor to refuse. He picked up the robe and coat and brought them over while Draco buttoned his shirt.

Draco stared into a the mirror on the wall and withdrew a comb, then brushed his hair back neatly and threw on his coat.

“Thanks. Wouldn’t do to be seen on patrol with hair less tidy than yours now, would it? Enjoy the baths, Potter. Just don’t let me catch you out after hours. You keep our secrets, we’ll keep yours, right?”

Harry nodded numbly, ready to agree to anything to get Draco out of here and end the tension that was devouring him.

Draco slipped his robe on over his uniform and adjusted his badge, then strolled away in perfect calm. Harry sighed softly with relief, letting his breathing return to normal, hoping he could get on with a cool bath and a decent night’s sleep. He stared studiously at the mirror as Draco sauntered away. Draco turned just before he reached the entryway.

“Oh, and Potter…just to keep our schedules clear…I always use this room just before my rounds at ten. One other thing, too. It’s considered gauche to ‘have one off’ in the actual bath, so do what I do, and take care of it before you get in. We all have to share this room, so do keep it clean, will you?”

Every muscle in Harry’s body tensed at the mention of wanking. He couldn’t believe Malfoy had just announced that he wanked, in here, every night, at ten o’ clock! What the hell would motivate Draco to tell Harry anything so presumably personal?

The door closed with a muffled click. Harry suddenly had an epiphany. There was only one reason a Slytherin, particularly Malfoy, would divulge that much information! 

Harry peeled off his pajama bottoms and set his wand and glasses on the bench. As he slipped into the water and felt the tepid water lap away at his exhaustion and soothe his stress, he smiled widely and whispered, “Beat the heat.”.

Magic tingled around his skin and a wonderful sense of pleasant coolness, rather like a late spring evening, suffused his entire body. He ducked his head beneath the water and surfaced feeling like a new man.

Harry leaned against the edge of the bath and grinned to himself. The weather would change soon enough, but he knew with uncanny certainty that this would still be the hottest year ever…all year long.

FIN


	2. The Heat Is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes up Malfoy's implied offer from the night before, and thinks he's ready to handle it.

The Heat Is Back!…..by Samayel

 

Harry knew all too well what Malfoy’s cryptic statements had meant. Perhaps there was a bit of truth in what the Sorting Hat had said. Even veiled by Draco’s Slytherin urge to obfuscate everything with vague hints, Harry knew an invitation when he heard one.

But an invitation from Malfoy? It could be a trap, or even just a simple prank. But what if it were true? 

There was no question of whether the situation was possible. Malfoy’s reputation was a muddled one that suggested an openness to sex with boys, as was Harry’s. The only real question was whether the offer was genuine, or hid some Slytherin plot.

Seeing Draco naked the night before had changed the dynamic between them irrevocably. Draco hadn’t flinched in the slightest when he’d seen the erection tenting Harry’s pajamas. In fact, he’d looked amused, comfortable, and speculative.

The knowledge that one of his schoolmates was comfortable with the idea of a tryst with another boy was nerve jangling. Malfoy be damned, Harry hadn’t seen anyone since he’d broken up with Ginny (which had been as much her doing as his) and the prospect of Draco Malfoy, who was reputedly sexually experienced AND skillful sounded better than ever.

Admittedly, his history with Draco Malfoy was colorful, if ‘colorful’ could be interpreted as ‘filled with tension and nearly blind rage’. But that had all changed during their sixth year. Malfoy’s comments had become subtler, and he hadn’t cast as much as a stray hex in Harry’s direction in over a year and a half. Harry certainly didn’t trust him, but there was a real possibility that, for once, he wasn’t in any danger.

Then there was the appalling lack of sex in his life. It may have been easy for some, but Harry’s fame added certain complications. He’d rather liked Cho…except for her wild mood swings. He’d really liked Ginny, but she seemed almost like a sister to Harry, who had been unofficially adopted by the Weasleys.

Oliver Wood had shot Harry down during his final year at Hogwarts, but at least he’d been kind about it. He’d just felt that Harry was too young, and needed someone who would be around more than six months. He’d given Harry a single wicked snog session and wished him good luck just before he left school, and that had been that.

Last year, he taken to occasionally wanking alongside Seamus, who was not only cute, but was friendly, outgoing, and had an easy familiarity that made him seem comfortable to be around, and fun to snog. It had cooled off the minute Seamus found a real boyfriend, and Harry was back where he’d started.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know anything about sex. Just not half as much as he’d like to. To Harry, seventeen seemed awfully old to be fumbling around without so much as a decent date in weeks.

His mind was made up. The Prefect baths were waiting, and curfew and risks be damned, Malfoy was an opportunity for something wilder than the usual, and Harry wasn’t wasting another chance. 

Malfoy had caught him off his guard, and this time he knew what he’d be seeing when he got there. However glib and cool Malfoy meant to play it, Harry would be ready to answer accordingly.

\-------------------------------------------------

Ten o’clock came and went while Harry waited in the Prefect baths. He’d been fifteen minutes early, and had been waiting ever since. He had peeled away his shirt and sat down on the bench to wait, nervous but still half hard from excitement. 

Last time had been an accident, but this visit to the baths was a deliberate and purposeful one, with sex at the center of it. That knowledge added a wicked thrill to the entire thing. The only missing element was fucking Malfoy!

Maybe he’d been set up? It was a quarter past the hour and Draco hadn’t shown. At least Harry had his Cloak. He could make a getaway if he had to, but no one else had come, and no threats had materialized. He wished he’d brought his Map, but it hadn’t seemed necessary.

What a gyp! The only upside to the entire waste of time was that, now that he was here, he could still go ahead and use the enchanted baths. In the sweltering heat of the afternoon, he’d wished he could be here cooling off in the bath, but there just hadn’t been time. Now he had the time to enjoy it, and with no Malfoy in sight, it looked like a cool bath was all he was getting tonight. How utterly disappointing!

Harry peeled away the rest of his clothes and piled them on the bench alongside his Cloak and shirt. He entered the edge of the bath closest to the bench, just in case he needed to gather his things and leave quickly. 

The water was perfect, as always. Tepid enough to be comfortable in the unseasonable heat that had struck England, just as it was always piping hot in the depths of winter. Harry slipped in, bar of soap in hand, and sat down near the edge, almost shoulders deep in the water. This was the perfect way to beat the heat!

A little judicious scrubbing later, and Harry felt clean and refreshed, if still somewhat disappointed. He ducked his head beneath the water, and scrubbed the shampoo from his hair thoroughly before he surfaced.

The first thing he saw, albeit somewhat blurrily for lack of his glasses, was Draco Malfoy looking down at him in vague annoyance when he emerged.

“Pathetic. Soap and shampoo, but no conditioner? No wonder your hair always looks like your owl nested in it! Really, Potter. Take an interest in yourself for once. It can’t hurt, and I’m sure you won’t save the world by abstaining from good grooming.” 

The cruel smirk was in place, and the sarcastic tone was familiar, but it seemed more playful than it used to be. Harry labored to keep his face as bored and neutral as Malfoy’s own. Giving away his eagerness would give Malfoy way too much credit. 

“Just enjoying a cool dip before bed. Wasn’t really worried about making myself a fashion model. You’re running a little late. Busy night?”

If he hadn’t been up to his neck in cool water, Harry would have broken out in a fine sweat when he saw Draco loosening his tie. As it was, he felt a slight flush rise in his cheeks. Draco appeared to be peeling away clothes with no regard for Harry’s presence. God! Why couldn’t he have that kind of calm?

Malfoy pulled a face that revealed irritation. “I caught some lovebirds en route to the Astronomy Tower. I hate missing my bath, but duty called. I would have kept it short and sweet, but the prat wanted to argue with me. The silly shit actually had the nerve to draw his wand. I hexed him with the ‘Constant Flatulence’ Curse. No one’s going to be getting romantic within twenty feet of him for the next few days! Ignorant fuckwit. Why do you care, anyway? Lonely in here, Potter?”

The ball was back in Harry’s court. If he admitted to being here to see Draco, it handed a tiny victory to Malfoy. Only faked nonchalance would keep the balance of power between them now. Malfoy wasn’t even looking in Harry’s direction while he spoke, but he was calmly removing his clothes at a rate that Harry found alarming.

The body that had firmly lodged itself in Harry’s memory the night before was suddenly naked in front of him again, and Harry could only pretend to be busy scrubbing himself down again. Inwardly, his heart was pounding like a bass drum, and his mind was on fire with the possibilities that were in now in front of him.

“Hardly! Just needed a cool dip before I sleep. This is the only time I can get one. I know you said you use the place about ten every night, but I’m not staying up and wandering the halls all night just to dodge your schedule. No offense, but when I want a bath, I’m taking one.”

Draco smiled like a cat and sat down on the bench lazily. He leaned back comfortably and spread his legs, sliding his hand toward his groin and the rapidly growing cock that dangled there.

Harry’s eyes bulged. A part of him hadn’t really believed that anything would come of Draco’s suggestive behavior the night before. Obviously, that part of him had been glaringly wrong. There was something incredibly, wickedly naughty and decidedly sensual about Draco’s casual attitude regarding being watched. The blond boy appeared to like it! Harry’s faint blush became a fiery one, and he choked out his surprise.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing?”

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked cruelly. “I heard your statement about taking a bath when you want to. No offense taken. But I told you I come here every night at this time, and I have mine off before I bathe. You can be here if you want, but I want a good wank and a cool bath, and you aren’t changing my schedule.”

With that, Draco slipped his hand around his newly stiffened length, and slowly began to pull, almost exclusively around the head of his cock, while giving small sighs of satisfaction, and periodically closing his eyes, only to open them again and stare directly into Harry’s wide and shocked green eyes.

Harry was near the edge of the bath, discreetly hiding his own quickly engorged member from view. For all his plans of staying glib and cool in front of Draco, he was feeling like a complete naïf next to Draco’s implacable calm.

Draco was only a few feet away, long legs spread and utterly naked, pulling himself off with relaxed determination, right in front of Harry. The tensing muscles of Draco’s inner thighs were clearly visible. Harry’s eyes followed them right to Draco’s groin, and the pale thatch of light colored hair that surrounded the other boy’s cock. Draco had heavy balls that hung low and loose in the heat, and effectively covered any view that Harry might have had of the intimate spot just behind them.

Draco’s right arm was working smoothly, while his left hand moved deftly to the base of his cock, thumb around the top, fingers behind the sac, idly pressing his own perineum. The rigid tool in Draco’s hand slowly reddened, and its veins were becoming a little more distinct, while his right hand stayed busy at the head.

A husky, lazy voice interrupted Harry’s awestruck observation.

“Potter…make yourself useful. Step back and stand up. Wanna see you.”

Draco’s voice may have been soft and distracted, but it was hypnotic to Harry. His legs were already moving back, away from the edge of the bath, toward the back step that would raise him high enough to be seen from the bench.

It hadn’t been like this around Seamus. Something about the Irish boy’s cheerful disposition had made the matter fun and almost innocent. Just a harmless shared wank between friends who both needed relief at the moment. This…this was another world…and an entirely different affair.

Harry stood up, exposing his own swollen cock, which had been entirely neglected while he’d been watching Draco. Aside from the soft noises from Draco, the water dripping from Harry was the only sound in the room.

He stood motionless, almost afraid to touch himself and the break the spell between them. Draco’s eyes flicked lazily across the details of Harry’s body, and Harry felt the scrutiny more intensely than ever before. Nudity wasn’t out of place in the communal living arrangements of Hogwarts, but this was another matter altogether.

“Go on. Get out of the bath. Lean against the wall. You look like you need to relieve some pressure, Potter. Just do it.” 

Draco’s words were delivered with the same lust-laced tone as before, but with a faint air of smug satisfaction.

Harry stepped out the bath, and Draco’s appreciative hiss of breath could be heard when Harry turned his back to Draco. He leaned back against the far wall for support, and wrapped his own hand around his aching erection, more around the center of it than Draco had, as his own head was particularly sensitive, and needed little attention.

Draco smiled and his gray eyes shone with a feral light while Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes, pulling quickly and roughly at himself, given over completely to the need to come.

In little more than a minute or two, Harry was on the edge of orgasm, and a surge of heat pulsed through him. His mouth was clamped shut, and he was almost holding his breath, This was by far more intense than wanking alone! The muscles of his stomach and thighs tensed sharply, and his knees almost went weak when he came. He let his breath out with an explosive gasp, pulling air back into his lungs with ragged panting breaths, and heavy white droplets spattered the tiles in front of him, one spurt after another.

Harry was depending on the wall behind him to support him, and was finally able to concentrate on the slightly blurry blond on the other side of the small room.

Draco looked ecstatic, wanton, and triumphant. His face was flushed, and his right hand was working furiously. He still had the presence of mind to give Harry a broad wink just before he closed his eyes and tipped his head back as orgasm overtook him.

Draco’s body tensed, muscles flexing in sharp contrast to his formerly relaxed pose, and with a series of groans that broke into relieved laughter, Draco’s cock sprayed long strings of come onto his own chest. Draco kept pulling, his left hand still wrapped around the base and pressing sharply against his perineum, forcing the last drops up and out of his pulsing cock and sending them dripping down his hand and wrist.

Harry was getting control of his swimming vision, and hadn’t the faintest clue what to say. He watched in gasping shock as Draco raised his come coated right hand to his mouth and let his slender, pink tongue slowly and deliberately lap away every drop from between his thumb and fingers, all the while staring at Harry with an almost savage glee.

Draco suddenly reached for his wand and casually Scougified himself clean of the remnants of his orgasm. Then he stood and stretched, his now limp cock hanging flaccid, sated and content, between his pale thighs. A few short steps and he was in the bath that Harry had been in minutes before, casually applying shampoo with an air of routine boredom that practically denied what they’d just done.

Without so much as a glance in Harry’s direction, Draco’s drawl could be heard over the splash of water as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

“Potter! Don’t be gauche. At least get your wand and clean up after yourself. I’m sure the other Prefects have no desire to traipse through your leftover spunk.”

Shocked back into motion, Harry picked up his wand and Scourgified the tiles he’d rather liberally splashed with his seed, then silently dressed himself, casting nervous sidelong glances toward Draco’s wet body, and idly wondering how the fuck anyone could be so suave and unflappable after jerking off in front of a classmate and rival.

It was infuriating, being embarrassed into stammering ignorance by Draco’s flippant attitude. It made no sense. On the Quidditch pitch, in the hallways, and in classes, Harry was the equal of any of his classmates, much less Malfoy. Why did he have to turn into a perfect prat as soon as a quick, albeit spectacular, wank was in the offing? It was completely unfair.

Harry was straightening and smoothing his clothes, hating his flustered inability to respond, and getting set to walk away. Just as he turned his back to walk out, Malfoy finally spoke.

“That was good fun. The view was especially nice. You’ve got a good body, Potter. Don’t stay a stranger. Sleep well.” There was no irony or sarcasm detectable in Draco’s drawl.

Harry stood stock still, his back to Malfoy, panicking over what to say. All he could manage was a strangled, “Thanks. It was cool. Good night,” before he slipped out of the room and back into the halls, inwardly screaming at himself for his own stupidity.

He’d never used the magic function of the baths. No cooling magic surrounded him, and the heat of the day was still lingering in the halls, even after dark. It would be a long and uncomfortable night of waking to charm himself cool, but he couldn’t handle the notion of humiliating himself any further in front of Malfoy. Besides, he had the suspicion that any sleep he might get tonight probably would have been interrupted by dreams of a smoldering eyed Draco anyway.

Harry trudged through the halls back to Gryffindor, cloaked and silent. Sated…and ironically more restless than ever. This…this was going to be the longest year ever.

TBC!


	3. The Heat Has Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry looks back, after his trysts with Draco, and wonders how he let it things get so far out of hand.

The Heat Has Gone…..by Samayel

 

Harry sat by the window in his dorm room, staring at the gray skies of autumn. The heat of summer had quickly evaporated, and normal weather had returned to England and Europe. The last two months hadn’t held any reason for him to visit the baths by night, but that hadn’t stopped him.

‘How the hell did I let it get to this? I’m a fucking idiot. No other explanation for it. God, I hate my life.’

His musings had been working their way toward this conclusion ever since the year began, and his little ‘arrangement’ with Malfoy was at the core of it.

It hadn’t seemed like much when it had started. Exciting, a little dangerous, and definitely hot, sexy and fun, but somewhere along the way, things had slid entirely out of control.

Like a junkie, willing to do anything for his next score, Harry had allowed Malfoy to maneuver every meeting between them in a direction that best suited the callow blond. It all led to this…this weird, exquisite shame. Mingled lust and a burning sense of humiliation.

’How did I let it go this far? I knew what he was like. Why couldn’t I have thought with something other than my cock just this once? Damn it!’

It hadn’t been all bad. There were a lot of memories of the last two months that were downright pleasant, as well as bloody wicked sexy. That was what lulled Harry into complacency. That was what had made this situation possible. Otherwise, he was sure he’d never have let it happen.

Wanking together quickly bored Malfoy, who was obviously debauched and jaded to a remarkable degree, and Harry had been oh so pathetically eager to try something new. Things had progressed with an astonishing quickness that made Harry blush even when he was alone. The things he’d done! God, if anyone knew, they’d look at him in shock, and probably cluck their tongues in knowing shame.

Ice gray eyes had burned into him, distracting him from the rest of the magnificent naked body he’d been helplessly ogling while he wanked.

‘Not this time, Potter. You do it for me. I’ll do it for you. Everyone wins, right?’

That fucking raised eyebrow and wicked smirk had left him breathless. He’d stretched out a hand without even thinking, and hesitantly closed it around Malfoy’s erect cock. That choice had sealed a pact between them, and Harry hadn’t given a thought to what price might come from it.

Malfoy’s smirk spread into a grin while he groaned with pleasure, and then he’d slipped a hand down to Harry’s own bobbing and weeping erection. The hands that touched Harry there were manicured silk, smooth and deft. Between strokes, fingertips brushed against his inner thighs, and across the front of his sac, rendering him almost slack jawed with pleasure.

He had Draco’s cock in his hand. IN HIS HAND! Thick, warm, sensitive flesh at his command, his to use as he pleased. Draco Malfoy was making soft noises of pure pleasure because of Harry’s manipulations. It was a high that no drug could ever have matched.

It hadn’t taken long, just a few minutes of red-cheeked, flustered stroking, and they’d come within seconds of each other.

Harry went first, overwhelmed by the sensation of a skillful hand working his shaft and ever so gently brushing his glans in the process. Thick and pearly gobs erupted outward, trickling down Draco’s wrist and spattering against the other boy’s hips and legs.

With a feverish gleam in his eyes, Draco gave a harsh moan and let the excitement from seeing Harry come in his hand carry him over the top. Short, hot jets of come leaped past Harry’s hand and struck his arm and stomach, as well as spotting the floor beneath them beside Harry’s own spent seed. He kept pulling until the last trickling drops rolled down his thumb, and Malfoy looked utterly replete.

Like an idiot, Harry had been swamped with emotions at that moment. He’d felt so close to Draco right then, so pathetically grateful for an orgasm that had been incredible, that he’d leaned forward without thinking, hesitant and full of trembling uncertainty, meaning to kiss Draco.

Draco’s fingertip was against his lip a second later, stopping any further action, and the gray eyes that had been so feverish before were now cool and detached.

Draco turned the wrist that Harry had left his semen on to face Harry. Then he took Harry’s arm in his free hand, and pulled it toward his own face. Draco never stopped looking Harry in the eyes while he delicately lapped away every trace of his own come from Harry’s hand and arm. A soft, pink tongue expertly laved away each drop and smear, and Harry watched in awe.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do at first, still reeling from the rejection of his kiss, but Draco had made it plain enough what he expected. Harry stuck his tongue out cautiously, and let it brush against the nearest spot of cooling sperm on Draco’s hand.

Slight hints of salt and chalk assailed his taste buds, and the texture was so strange, nothing he’d ever imagined…and Draco’s hand actually held a scent that Harry had only ever experienced alone before. It was his own scent, now emanating from the hand of the person who had just touched him more intimately than anyone else ever had. His mind reeled, and Harry acquiesced, lapping away the heavy droplets he’d left behind on Malfoy’s perfectly manicured hands. 

The hand pulled away gently when Harry was done, and Draco stepped away calmly, took up his wand, and uttered a few Cleaning Charms with a dismissive calm that made Harry want to scream. Then he stepped into the bath like Harry wasn’t even there.

Harry hadn’t bathed yet, either, and though he joined Malfoy in the warm water, there was no intimacy in it, and no conversation between them as they cleaned themselves.

Malfoy finished first, and was drying himself while Harry scrubbed away shampoo and soap in a distracted state of surreal disbelief.

‘You did that remarkably well. I liked it. One thing, Potter, and don’t forget it. Kisses are for lovers, and we aren’t lovers. You’re a lot more interesting than I thought, and this is all well and good, but I’ll thank you to not complicate it with that Hufflepuff shit. If you can manage that, there’s no telling what kind of things we might get up to if you want, but if you can’t handle it, there’s no reason to show up here tomorrow. Nothing personal, that’s just how it is.’

And torn between Draco’s praise and the promise of more, and the biting realization that he was utterly out of his league and effectively swimming with a shark, Harry had nodded assent with an expressionless face, letting Draco know that he accepted the terms.

Harry had felt weak and stupid for letting conditions like that pass. There was no affection between them, just lust. There was nothing in this but raw sex, and Malfoy was comfortable in that environment. Harry could never be that way. Just by having touched Draco, a connection he couldn’t ignore had been forged. Now he had to live with the consequences, and hide any hint of feeling, if he wanted to enjoy their arrangement’s advantages, or even see Draco regularly. He’d let this happen, and it hadn’t stopped there.

The Prefect baths were silent as a grave, making Harry’s efforts to undress a noisy interruption. Malfoy’d been late again. Harry looked back over the past week and sighed. Whatever he’d suffered silently for, the week had held a lot of pleasure.

They’d changed the routine after a few days. It didn’t matter who got off first or last anymore. Draco had stepped behind Harry in mid wank, and pressed his body close to Harry’s, letting his hard cock rub against Harry’s arse while he pulled skillfully at Harry’s cock.

He’d loved the feeling of warm skin so tight and close against his own, the soft puffs of Malfoy’s breath against the back of his neck, and the dizzying sensations that came from knowing that Draco’s cock was pulsing so hard that he could feel Draco’s heartbeat through it even against the cleft of his backside.

Draco had suddenly twined a hand into Harry’s hair just before biting hard near the nape of Harry’s neck. That tipped the balance. Harry had simply melted, leaning back against Draco for support while he came copiously, slavishly grateful to be given an orgasm this good by anyone.

Within seconds of his own release, he realized that Draco was rubbing hard against his backside, and in gratitude, he matched that motion, trying his best to give something in return for the pleasure he’d just experienced. Draco almost growled approval, rutting hard against Harry, until a half minute later, hot come was making the contact between them slick and easy, and Malfoy was grunting with audible satisfaction, coating Harry’s lower back, arse cheeks and legs with the sticky outpouring of his lust.

Malfoy had finished by giving a soft pinch to Harry’s bum, then unwound himself from Harry and returned to the familiar routine of casting Cleaning Charms and bathing. The only exception to their usual silent, after-sex rituals were Malfoy’s laughing smiles, which Harry hadn’t figured out the source for, and the gift Draco had given him. A bottle of conditioner for his hair that had probably cost quite a bit.

Harry had fumbled out a question, wondering why Draco would suddenly give him a gift or show any sign of affection, and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself by admitting the way his heart leaped over such a little thing.

‘It’s just product, Potter. You obviously need it. You’d look fairly sharp if you sorted out that mess on your head. I think it might improve my enjoyment of all this if I didn’t wind up getting my fingers caught in that travesty you call hair. Enjoy it.’

And that had been that. Nothing more was said on the subject, but Harry found that the stuff worked incredibly, smoothing out cowlicks that had been his bane for years. As insulting as Draco occasionally was, the sneaking suspicion arose that, just perhaps, Draco felt a bit more than he admitted.

Harry‘s musings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He took a deep breath and peeled away the last of his clothes, eager for whatever Draco chose to share that night.

That sentimentality had only served to lure Harry further into the web of Draco’s lust. A stupid, horny, teenage fly, trapped in the spider web of Draco’s need, eager to be sucked dry and left withered and empty as an object lesson to others. What a fool he’d been.

Draco never let things fall into routine. Their time together had grown more complicated with every passing day, and Harry was always certain to find a new pleasure when he met Draco in the baths.

One day he discovered that nipples could be a source of enjoyment, and on another he learned just how sensitive the flesh along his hipbones could be. Masturbation had opened the door to the rest, and now frottage had become the rule of the day.

Draco never let Harry rub off against his backside, stopping Harry with no more than a look, and guiding him into Draco’s arms to enjoy the act face to face. Well, almost face to face, since Draco, apparently unwilling to risk a stray kiss, kept his head turned from Harry’s neck.

It had still been grand for Harry, pressing Draco back against the cool stone of the wall, feeling his cock slide deliciously against the silken skin of Draco’s hips and stomach. Draco’s cock was canted to one side and leaving small, cool dabs of pre-come that taunted Harry without mercy. 

Frustrated by the inability to kiss, and unwilling to just mindlessly pant his way to orgasm, Harry finally bit down hard behind Draco’s right ear. Draco gave a tense cry, stiffened against Harry all at once, and shuddered while he coated both their stomachs and groins with come.

Harry let loose a second later, savoring the slick friction between their bodies while he further soaked their joined hips with seed.

He’d grown more confident, and more aggressive, as the weeks had passed. With a hand firmly holding Malfoy’s chest to the wall, Harry dropped to his knees. He’d tasted his own come more than once by now, and Malfoy’s as well on several occasions. There was no shyness in him when he licked Draco’s body clean of every trace of their respective orgasms, even working his way teasingly along the flesh of the cock he had previously only touched with his hand.

Draco had actually looked impressed for the first time, winded and wide-eyed against the wall, but despite complimenting Harry with real sincerity, it hadn’t changed a thing between them. Malfoy had his boundaries, and nothing budged them.

It had changed the dynamic between them a little though, and Harry mistook that change for progress in his eagerness to believe better things about Draco. In hindsight, he knew he’d been superimposing his wishes over Draco’s actions, reading more into things than was actually there. At the time, he’d thought he felt a change, and maybe, just maybe, he had, but, ultimately, it wasn’t enough to make a difference.

‘Let me do something for you, Potter. Think of it as a kindness. This little thing between us has been a lot of fun, but I’d like something…more, and I expect you’ll like it, too.’

It had started easily enough, with a conversation that warmed Harry immediately, reminding him painfully of how much he hungered for something a little more intimate between them. The promise of that, and the hungry shine in Draco’s eyes, made his interest a certainty.

‘I assume you’ve never had a blow job before…’ Harry nodded, his heart pounding with excitement. ‘and it follows that you haven’t given one before, either?’ Harry nodded again, this time smiling. It was easy to see where Draco was going with this. 

They were already peeling off clothes with identical calm and familiarity. There was no ticklish fumbling from Harry these days. It was easier to talk, easier to smile, and easier to drop pretense and get right to sex every time they met.

‘Well,’ the blond looked at Harry with the usual wicked smirk that Harry now adored, ‘I don’t like sloppy, talent-less head. And short of finding you some other teacher, I don’t see any better trained person to show you how it’s done than myself. I just want you to pay attention, because believe me…there will be a test on this later. Sit or stand, your choice really.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ Harry leaned back against the wall for support. ‘I can promise this. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting even a second of this.’ His own smirk was a match for Draco’s.

‘Oh…you won’t. Don’t worry about that. I’m just concerned that when I snuff your mind out like a candle, there won’t be enough sense left in you to get me off the same way! Enjoy.’ Then Malfoy knelt, winked once, and Harry’s cock was engulfed in a warm, wet mouth, touching off sensations he hadn’t even imagined were possible.

He tried to remember the way Draco’s tongue slithered around the head of his cock, and the way those elegant hands had manipulated his iron hard and aching length. It was fucking unreal. Malfoy gave head like it was a work of art, and Harry was his living canvas. Both the blonde’s hands, as well as his lips and tongue, were in action. 

When Draco occasionally paused the rhythm to swallow Harry’s cock whole, the feeling of his glans against the back of Draco’s throat made him want to scream. Harry felt tears leaking down his face, but didn’t have the time or energy to care. At this moment, his entire universe had narrowed to the beautiful face that was at work in his lap, driving Harry over a precipice beyond imagination.

One soft hand was massaging the muscles behind his balls, the other was smoothly stroking his shaft, and Draco’s mouth was working its own magic at the head. Holding out longer than a few minutes was a lost cause.

Harry tried to keep his hands off of Draco and pressed his palms to the wall behind him, but the surge that tore through him was more than he could control, and he grabbed Draco’s head with both hands, whimpering out of desperation.

Draco’s neck strained while he kept control of the situation, and drained Harry mercilessly as he came, each hard jolt matched by sudden suction from Draco’s expertly pursed lips. Not a drop was wasted, and Harry was weeping openly between cries. 

This was when Harry’s reserve failed him utterly. Head on fire with the magic of orgasm, eyes glazed and breath ragged, he watched Draco pull away from his softening cock with a triumphant sneer. The words came before he could stop, half a whisper, half a prayer.

‘Dra…Draco. I love you.’ Harry felt immediate shame for saying it. That in itself made it worse, because words like those should never have been something to be ashamed of. Draco’s silence terrified him, and the notion that he’d spoiled their arrangement for good went careening through Harry’s mind.

Draco stood up calmly, looked at Harry with unexpected warmth, as if searching Harry’s mind for something only Draco could sense. Then the mask dropped back into place, and Draco lifted his chin and drawled a simple command while holding his own jutting erection out toward Harry.

‘Prove it.’ The words were as icy as an executioner’s axe, and as final as death itself.

Frantic to please and satisfy Draco, Harry dropped to his knees and went to work. When he took Draco’s cock into his mouth, it was with a hungry desperation that wasn’t borne of mere lust, but an all consuming need to prove that he’d meant those words. Anything to make Draco reconsider his boundaries, and anything to keep Draco from punishing Harry for his temerity by ending their ’relationship’.

Harry may have been inexpert, but he had Draco’s performance fresh in his mind, and he labored as hard as he could to match it. Even if he fell short of that mark, his sincerity and effort paid off handsomely enough. Draco made obvious noises of pleasure, and Harry could feel the tensing muscles that presaged orgasm easier than ever before.

He was joyfully conscious of the heat, thickness and soft textured skin that slid across his tongue as he worked. It had been an act of heroism to get the whole thing into the back of his throat while suppressing the urge to gag, but he’d done it, and now he did it every so often, with Malfoy’s sighs and moans to goad him on.

Draco came almost without warning, one hand in Harry’s hair, holding Harry’s head still, and the other against the wall to keep him upright as he came. Come flooded Harry’s mouth, and he hurriedly swallowed again and again, trying not let a drop spill, wanting more than anything to prove that he could give Draco something that others couldn’t. He even lapped the last sticky drops from the tip of Draco’s cock, carefully squeezing near the base with his left hand to ensure that the last of it had reached him at the other end.

Harry laid his head against Draco’s thigh, and his palms were flat against Draco’s hips as he remained kneeling before the one he’d worked so hard to please. Catching his breath and savoring the unique flavor that was Draco’s come, Harry felt Draco’s hand unclench from his hair, and stroke gently down the side of his head, fingertips stroking his cheek gently, almost affectionately. His heart buoyed.

‘That was good. Really good, Harry. I guess you were taking notes. I appreciate the effort. Thank you.’

Neither of them moved for another minute or so. Harry quietly accepted that he’d been forgiven his little slight, and was filled with a sublime bliss by the gesture Draco had shown him. Weeks of sex, and this was the first time Draco had ever called him by his first name. 

How absurd that he should be so grateful for such a thing, something that should have been his rightful due, but then, there, all he’d cared about had been pleasing Draco.

Draco had won. Harry knew it. There was no question of equality between them, and if Draco had had any doubts about whether he held the reins in this affair, those doubts were surely shattered by now. Harry had given up any pretense that might have protected him, and only mercy on Draco’s part could keep him from grief.

It had been a slim hope at best, and Harry snorted in derision now, looking back at his own innocence and folly. What did he think would happen? Ride off into the sunset together as a happy couple? A house in the suburbs with a vine covered picket fence?

Even at that telling point, the worst had still been yet to come.

 

TBC!!!


	4. The Heat Won’t Quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry keeps going back, even after a painful lesson about Draco's limitations.

The Heat Won’t Quit…..by Samayel

 

Harry gathered his cloak and map. He would go to the baths again tonight, just as he did most every night. It hurt even to think of it, but he did it anyway, as if by rote memory, an act so often practiced that it became near instinct.

He looked back at the weeks that had passed since the start of school, as he often did now, and sat on the bed with a sigh…and a pained wince.

His arse was sore, and not without justification. Not that that would stop him from doing whatever Draco wished, and Draco wished for a lot. Shamefully, Harry was always eager to give.

Draco could be gentle, sometimes, but in the heat of the moment, Harry scarcely cared whether he was or wasn’t. What made him sick was the knowledge that he could be brought to peaks of sexual pleasure so easily by someone who barely seemed to care for him. He knew that he ranked somewhat better than ‘treasured pet’ in Draco’s eyes, and if he wanted to enjoy the perks that came with that status, he had to lower his expectations and accept what Draco was willing to offer.

He’d learned his lesson only a few weeks ago, and the sting of it was a bitter barb still buried deep in heart.

Draco had kept the pace of progress in their nocturnal activities as high as ever, bring something new into play every few days. Every change was welcomed by Harry, who was just glad that his lapse into romanticism had been politely ignored, and that Malfoy had acknowledged that some small show of affection now and then made things easier for Harry.

The most specific change came first to mind. Harry had quickly fallen in love with the entire concept of oral sex, and Draco occasionally initiated it, or reciprocated deftly when Harry initiated it. That part hadn’t changed at all, save for Harry developing greater skill as the days ticked by.

The real change was what Draco did while giving Harry head. Although he never allowed Harry to do the same to him, Draco routinely massaged Harry’s virgin hole with spit slicked fingers, rubbing gently and firmly in ways that left Harry panting and gasping for immediate release.

Draco finally, inevitably, took it a step further, and during a long and teasing session that Harry thought would end with Draco finally attending to Harry’s twitching cock, Draco ducked his head between Harry’s legs and swiped his tongue along just the rim of Harry’s arsehole.

This act shocked Harry completely, both because of its inherently taboo nature, and because of what it suggested regarding Draco’s wants.

Once it was established that Harry had no resistance to the notion, Draco simply pushed Harry’s knees back, exposing his bum completely, and dove to work with tongue and fingers, ultimately causing Harry to orgasm quite spontaneously onto his own stomach, while Draco made a slick and spit soaked mess of Harry’s backside.

It had been the fingers that had eroded Harry’s restraint. When, after considerable preparation, the third finger had squeezed in, and Draco had twisted his hand carefully, aiming for a very specific place, Harry had shamelessly cried out in pleasure, unwittingly telling Draco that he’d found precisely what he was working toward.

After that, it was only a matter of time before Harry spattered himself with come, and collapsed into a limp and inchoate wreck right there on the tiled floor. Draco had promptly knelt above him and relieved his own erection via masturbation, dispassionately aiming his come, quite suggestively, between Harry’s inner thighs, letting it drip and mingle with the saliva that already drenched Harry’s backside.

That was the moment that Harry had first known that Draco was ultimately going to wind up fucking him. And he knew it…because he wanted Draco to do it. This had been the endgame, and Draco would have what he wanted, because he’d made Harry desperate to give it to him.

Harry could have walked away. That was what made it a tragedy. At every step along the way, he could have turned his back or forced Draco’s hand. There wasn’t one act he’d been forced into, it had all been of Harry’s choosing. Even the last of it, no matter how much it shamed him to admit it.

There shouldn’t have been ANY shame in what he was doing. For all that he and Draco had done together, they should have been lovers. There should have been some shred of real intimacy between them. Harry knew full well that the sex should have been accompanied by the things that marked a healthy, normal relationship. He knew all this, and still hadn’t fought to make those things a part of what took place between him and Draco.

Whatever shame he may have felt, it simply hadn’t been enough to overcome his growing desire for Draco. Whatever it took, he was willing to try, if it gave him hope of opening up Draco’s heart just a little more. That was what led him here, to this state of affairs, in pursuit of a stupid teenage dream that couldn’t really exist.

The baths had been getting warmer as the weather cooled, adding a pleasant steaminess to the Prefect’s baths in fall. Harry always came early now, and usually tried to clean himself well before Draco got there. In light of what he’d been letting Draco do, his hygiene mattered more than ever, and Draco’s coyly pleased comments had let him know that the effort was appreciated.

It was getting inexorably closer, the act he expected from Draco any day, and his own desire for it had reached a fever pitch. Draco manipulated him with fingers and tongue each night, always leaving Harry thoroughly sated, but strangely desperate for more.

Harry had taken to wanking in his dorm shower in the mornings, his own fingers working rather ineffectually to mimic Draco’s adept caresses. It was all he thought about. Soon, blessedly soon, Draco would finally take the last step, and just maybe let his guard down and acknowledge Harry as more than a convenience.

That was as intimate as two people could get, right? Surely Draco would stop refusing to kiss him once they’d really done it. Anything would be worth such a triumph. Anything.

Draco arrived a few minutes late to find Harry, naked, clean and sleek, drying himself slowly by the bench. The smile that crossed his lips looked so genuine. Harry knew full well that Draco liked what he saw.

Harry wasn’t blind outside of the baths, either. Draco noticed him regularly, and never scowled at him anymore. Best of all, rumor had reached Harry that Slytherin was in a state of confusion over Draco’s behavior the last few weeks.

Draco hadn’t touched another person in weeks. His classmates had decided he was depressed, rendered impotent by some curse, or undergoing some weird spiritual transformation. The most debauched student in the history of Slytherin had been chaste as a nun for weeks, and no one knew why. Except Harry.

He’d never discussed it, but he knew that tidbit of information was important. Even if Draco acted blasé about things, there were underlying feelings at work that Draco would only share when he was ready.

Draco peeled away his coat and clothes, making idle chat with Harry as if they weren’t about to engage in acts that would shock half the school into histrionics. Harry smiled and stood up from the bench, faking a yawn that gave him an excuse to stretch widely and deliberately show off his naked body. Draco graced him with a look that almost berated him for doing anything so obvious, but still managed to mingle attraction with disdain.

It was amazing how much mileage Draco could get from single look, and Harry wished he could pick up that knack. He settled for following Draco to the other side of the baths, but not without adding a certain lazy grace to his strut.

Harry let his eyes smolder, blatantly advertising his want, very deliberately provoking a reaction from Draco, which was hard to deny, given the speed with which blood rushed to Draco’s cock. Draco’s look shifted from vaguely attracted disdain to one of aroused interest, and Harry afforded himself a little congratulations for making an impression. 

Draco was sitting at the edge of the bath when Harry walked two steps down into it, only inches from Draco, leaving his half hard cock dangling less than a foot from Draco’s mouth. This time, Harry arched a single eyebrow in subtle invitation, and Draco smiled approvingly. Then he leaned forward, and gave Harry a reason to gasp with unfeigned ecstasy as he put his vast skills to work on Harry’s rapidly stiffening cock.

Ruthless fingers slithered along Harry’s thighs, restlessly working their way toward their usual target. Harry savored every stroke and caress, knowing perfectly well where they were leading, and hoping hungrily for just a little more this time.

He wasn’t disappointed. Draco finally paused in his ministrations and guided Harry to his knees on the edge of the baths. Draco was behind him, comfortable on the steps, on partly submerged in warm water. In seconds, a familiar and devilish tongue was performing while subtle hands caressed Harry oh so teasingly.

It was the way Draco touched him, firmly, yet without disrespect, sensually, but with a hint of power. Harry felt like an ocean ship the was being gently steered, never fought for control, and Draco’s real gift lay in his ability to move Harry to offer more of his own volition.

Fingers and tongue took turns penetrating Harry deeper than ever before, while Harry whimpered and groaned with need in front of Draco. Harry reached beneath himself, intending to stroke his rigid cock to relief, when Draco’s hand reached his own and stopped it, pushing it back to its original position, supporting Harry as he knelt on all fours at the edge of the bath. 

Water splashed behind Harry and he looked back to see Draco standing up behind him, looking at Harry almost reverently, yet tinged with a dark and powerful lust that fluttered just beneath the surface of Draco’s famous self control.

Draco’s look was a question, and Harry’s answer was to shift himself only slightly, arching his back and offering himself without a word.

Harry felt it against him almost immediately, nudging at his saliva soaked entrance, but a week of subtle fingers and aching desire had built up his ability to cope with such an invasion.

Draco was supremely gentle, stroking Harry’s back in relative silence, save for a few whispered words of approval and admiration that felt like loud accolades to Harry, who had starved for approval his entire lifetime, and responded so easily to it now.

Harry pushed back gently, and felt himself flower outward onto the erect cock behind him. They rocked together, bringing just the head of Draco’s cock in and out of Harry’s hungry and willing body, only to take it just a measure further each time.

Minutes may have passed, or they could have been hours, Harry could no longer tell, completely absorbed in an act of complete surrender, praying that Draco wouldn’t hurt him at a moment like this.

Draco didn’t. He moved with the patience of a saint, teasing his way into Harry’s body with no more than his own spit as lubricant, and never made Harry feel anything crueler than the desire for more. In time, his groin was pressed hot and tight against Harry’s backside, Draco’s balls brushing against the back of Harry’s. 

Every so often, sheathed completely in Harry’s body, Draco would shift a little, applying pressure that made Harry moan weakly, almost whining with need, then slowly begin to withdraw, but never by more than an inch before he slid in slowly again.

The pace was brutally slow, and torturous for Harry, who had never experienced such a feeling of fullness, or such an intimate connection to another person, in his entire life, and he had no idea how to cope with it. There was something he wanted so very badly, but he simply didn’t know what it was.

Draco’s hands were comfortable on Harry’s hips, and they made Harry feel strangely secure, as though he was in the care of someone who, if need be, would hold him safe and close, never letting him fall to harm.

Draco’s rocking became more pronounced, his grip tightened, and Harry became aware of the delicate burn of friction inside him, as the place that only fingers had stretched and stroked before was now wrapped firmly around the thrusting thickness of Draco’s cock. With every brief stroke, Harry would gasp, and try to make sense of the overwhelming sensations that were eroding his rather fragile self control so quickly.

Draco moved with more confidence, and Harry felt Draco stand a little, making each stroke of his cock into Harry come from a higher angle. A second later, Harry was a trembling mass, supported largely by Draco’s efforts to hold his waist, and his own cock bobbed and wept, almost tingling at the base each time Draco drove into him.

Draco raised the pace again a mere minute later, battering that wonderful spot inside Harry with amazing precision. Harry had opened himself utterly, reducing the friction, craving further faster contact between Draco’s cock and the place inside that needed its attention. Little lights burst in Harry’s vision, and he almost slipped into a happy, numb, trance-like state, only aware of the pleasure that thrummed through his body in waves, until a mounting and uncontrollable urge to come pulled him sharply back to reality.

Harry panted out cries in delirium, loving the way that, with each spurt of his own orgasm, his body clenched tight around Draco’s cock, adding a new sensation into the mix, since Draco’s pace didn’t slow in the slightest until well after Harry had finished coming.

It was then that Draco paused, and pulled Harry up onto his knees, resting on Draco’s lap, still impaled on the prong of Draco’s erection. Draco had an arm wrapped firmly around his chest, and rocked slowly, moving both their bodies to the same rhythm. His cock throbbed inside Harry, and Harry could have sworn he felt the pulse of Draco’s heartbeat between his thighs.

Draco’s free hand moved to Harry’s flagging, happily spent cock, and gently massaged it life again. The friction inside him was bordering on uncomfortable, but Harry was past the point of caring, and he simply lolled his head onto Draco’s shoulder, surrendering himself completely to the man that had just taken his virginity, and given him the paramount orgasm of his life so far.

Harry hung on the border between repletion and ecstasy longer than he could clearly recall, and the way Draco touched him was both reverent and passionate. Draco’s breath hissed against Harry’s shoulder, and he was scarcely cognizant of the tension building in the man behind him.

A minute later, Harry became aware that Draco’s manipulation of his cock had become frenetic and clumsy. Draco bit down at the base of Harry’s collarbone, sucking hard at the tender flesh there, stifling a groan as he came deep and hard inside Harry’s body.

Harry placed his own hand around Draco’s, and guided its action around his own cock, savoring the knowledge that he’d just brought a lover to orgasm in the most complete and final of ways.

With his steady hand to guide Draco’s own, he brought himself to orgasm a minute later, this time far more conscious of the oddly uncomfortable and yet thrilling way his body cinched tightly around the intruding member lodged deep inside of him as he came. His second orgasm was almost painful, and he shuddered and bit his own lip to hold back cries while hot fluid rolled down his and Draco’s joined hands.

Draco’s head rested against Harry’s back, and sharp puffs of breath felt cool and good against Harry’s heated and sweat slick skin. They remained motionless, joined together still, for almost a minute.

Then Draco broke the spell between them with a single kiss at the center of Harry’s back, and Harry shuddered with pleasure at the hint of affection and intimacy that was offered him. Then Draco awkwardly moved Harry from his lap, withdrawing his spent and softening cock from Harry slowly, voicing only a tiny ‘ah’ as the sensitive head slid free of Harry’s grasp.

Harry relaxed on the tiles beside the bath, still too tired and giddy to act coherently, not trusting himself to speak clearly. He settled for a wide and honest smile of sated pleasure, hoping Draco would notice the unspoken compliment inherent in it.

Draco picked up his wand, uttered a few Cleaning Charms, and slid into the bath with a lazy sigh.

Slightly disappointed, but not entirely surprised, Harry slid into the bath for the second time, feeling a bit more forward in the aftermath of this latest and most remarkable step in his ’relationship’ with Draco. That same overconfidence was what ultimately brought things to head.

Brimming with satisfaction and gratitude, Harry managed to get through only a couple of minutes of bathing next to Draco’s silence, before slipping up behind Draco and enfolding him in a hug. Before Harry could express a word of his feelings, Draco’s iciest tone stopped him cold.

“What, exactly, do you fucking think you’re doing?” Draco’s back was tensed in sharp contrast to the softness of Harry’s embrace, and Harry pulled away slowly, more than a little stunned by Draco’s angrily hissed comment.

“I…I just thought…’ Harry fumbled for words, flushing crimson with humiliation.

“I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure thought wasn’t involved, because I thought I made it clear that this insipid Hufflepuff bullshit is off the menu. Was I unclear?”

“No…no, but…” Harry bit back tears that were stinging in the corners of his eyes. Those would only make this disaster worse.

“But nothing, Potter! You were doing great…just don’t fuck with a good thing until it’s broken, that’s all I ask. You like this, don’t you?” Draco still hadn’t even turned to look at him.

“Yeah…I do…I just…”

“Are we not having a good time? I thought this was going swimmingly, but I could be wrong. I’m asking myself if I was wrong about your ability to handle this. I HAD some confidence in you, which was a first…was I mistaken?”

Panicky desperation and disappointment gave way to a complete surrender. His need for Draco’s approval would have been less, if it hadn’t been for the fresh and mind boggling experience at the forefront of Harry’s mind. His heart sank in his chest, and he sighed softly, then answered with a coolness that could have matched Draco’s own, even if his heart was breaking while he did it.

“No. You weren’t. I’m fine. Forget about it.” The words felt heavy, like he was trying to drop boulders from his tongue, but he got them out, and Draco’s beautiful back appeared to relax. Draco scrubbed shampoo from his hair while he answered in a warmer tone.

“Good. Keep a grip on yourself. You were much too good tonight to spoil the whole thing with all that nonsense. I mean really, you were fucking incredible, and I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself that much. It’s not flattery to say it, but you’re a natural, Harry. If I’d the faintest idea you were that good, I’d have been winging invitations your way since fifth year. Please don’t let me down, alright?”

“Right. No worries.” Even if his voice was level, Harry still had to busy himself washing, careful to make sure any signs of the tears burning on his cheeks were erased.

So calm. How friendly he’d made that sound…that betrayal of anything decent and healthy that could exist between two people. And he’d made Harry feel the burden of guilt, as if being sane enough to want something more than empty sex was a hostile act. Harry had learned his lesson, and the pain of it hadn’t diminished in the weeks since.

He always went back. To a lover that did not love. Hungry for kisses and always starved. Empty except for the one way in which Draco filled him, and that was done expertly and well.

Draco had sensed the shift in his mood, and brought occasional gifts, small things that seemed to show some hint of affection without forcing him to actually show it. They were nice after a fashion, but they weren’t anything that Harry wanted. He took them just to save face, feigning pleasure at the gestures.

Draco had also given Harry a phial of slick lubricant that made their meetings much easier, and allowed them much greater flexibility with regard to positions and speed. As far as the sex was concerned, it only got better as Harry adapted to it, discovering that with practice he could intensify his own pleasure far beyond that of their beginnings. It wasn’t enough.

So many positions, so many pleasures, and so many veiled desires that couldn’t even be spoken without risking the collapse of their little house of cards. There was one thing they had never done, one taboo they never shattered. 

Draco never bottomed. His backside was inviolate, and remained untouched, a single mystery unresolved in a relationship built on the crossing of boundaries. Like a symbol of his inability to commit more than his body to Harry, his staunch and silent refusal to bottom, or even be rimmed or fingered, stood like a bulwark between them.

And Harry…Harry was sick of it. The implied inequality between them, the unfulfilled desires he bore within himself daily, and the hypocrisy of a sexual partner who would cheerfully break down Harry’s every barrier, but never dared to breach his own.

But he always went back. Harry picked up his cloak and map and pocketed his wand. He would go back like he did every night, and Draco would please his body, lavishing every sensual kindness upon him, and make him come, savagely, wildly and well, begging for more with every panted breath. 

The nights would be cold in his room when he was alone, and he could hate himself then, but for an hour or two, this sickening heat would be upon him, and it simply wouldn’t quit, even while his heart railed against him as walked down the halls in silence.

TBC!!!


	5. The Heat Goes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick of Draco's attitude and issues, Harry finally lays down the law...his way.

The Heat Goes Out...by Samayel

 

Harry made his way to the entrance of the Prefect’s baths. It must have been his hundredth such trip by now. He could remember when his feet hadn’t felt like lead on the way here. He could remember when he came here still joyful, eager and full of enthusiasm for whatever new things each night brought.

How cruel that he had lost that naiveté so quickly. Now he only arrived at this door with self hatred and shame, tinged by an aching need for closeness that only Draco Malfoy could fulfill. Harry leaned his head against the stone wall beside the door and closed his eyes. Through this door, sexual satisfaction waited for him, but with a hidden price attached, a price that Malfoy charged in exchange for his favors. A price paid in silence…and grief.

Draco would do his best to please him in every way a lover could, but certain boundaries would never be crossed. Draco would never kiss him on the mouth, as a lover ought to. He would never hug or cuddle, save for a few seconds in the aftermath of orgasm, before he stepped away coolly and bathed himself. Draco would never let Harry touch, rim or in any way penetrate Draco the way he did such things to Harry. There were no compromises on this.

Affection could not be demanded of Draco. He would show it when, where, and how HE was comfortable showing it. Harry’s wants or needs simply didn’t take any precedence.

These were the things that Harry had learned to live with after Draco had lured him into a web of sexual gratification and exploration. Explorations that only stopped when Draco had achieved his penultimate goal…creating in Harry a lust to give himself to Draco as a bottom. 

Once Draco had what he wanted, he was pleasant, complimentary, generous, and thorough in his efforts to guarantee Harry’s satiation…as long as his own rules were quietly observed. Harry had compromised and compromised, choosing silence over empty loneliness, again and again. The memory of it made him want to sick up.

Harry was anything but a coward. He faced everything with his heart on his sleeve, and had never run away or shirked a duty when it counted for anything. He wasn’t a coward of the heart either. There had been so many little signs from Draco that something about Harry moved him; tantalizing hints that said that Harry mattered to him more than anyone else ever had, that Harry had let himself fall in love, and sacrificed his own pride just to keep someone who would fuck him with a passion that couldn’t be faked, but wouldn’t kiss him or speak a loving word or two.

So many moments where Draco had looked like he was about to crack and say something he was afraid of. So many glances that hinted at more than lust. Looks that had spoken of growing respect and a comfortable familiarity. But when Harry pushed the matter, Draco always clammed up, shutting down any semblance of affection or intimacy, treating Harry with total indifference, and always, always hanging the threat of terminating their acquaintance and its ‘benefits’ over Harry’s head.

The benefits were obvious. Harry had never been made so horny, or satisfied so completely, in his entire life. In just a few months, he’d gone from being a shy schoolboy who had enjoyed a few discreet snogs and a bit of wanking in the company of others, to being a hungry, yet confident, sexual creature, experienced beyond the wildest dreams of his housemates.

He’d had no real prejudice for or against either gender, but if anyone had told him that, two months later, he would be steeped in more sexual lore than a rent boy, and be Draco Malfoy’s exclusively bottom plaything, he would have thought that person to be barking mad, and would have recommended a room at St. Mungo’s!

Nonetheless, here he was, outside the door of the Prefect baths, cloaked and hidden from the world, ready to slake Draco’s every lust, and willing to ignore a heart that ached for something more every time he looked upon the lean and beautiful blond he’d fallen so helplessly for.

‘How long can I keep doing this? I can’t…I can’t not love…I can’t not say it. It hurts, and I hate it, but I love him.’

Harry clamped his eyes shut rather than let them tear up. He’d finally admitted it. He was in love with Draco. That was what made him weak, and made Draco seem so cold. Harry loved, and Draco wouldn’t allow such weakness in his life. He wouldn’t even allow himself to be reminded that such a thing as love existed.

Harry had an epiphany at that moment, a flash of insight that tore through his mind like the Hogwart’s Express. He was no coward…but Draco was! For all his suave that Harry envied, for all his cool disdain and elegant demeanor, Draco Malfoy was afraid of Harry, and most specifically, afraid of what Harry could mean to Draco.

‘I thought he had all the power…but he only has what I gave him! He’s not in charge of anything! I’m the one really holding the reins, and he let me think it was him! I’ve done everything he asked…I wasn’t afraid of anything but losing my chance with him…and he wouldn’t even give me that chance! He’s the one who still has all the issues, and he’s the one who won’t let go of them and just live!

Draco couldn’t hurt him anymore, not in the glaring face of that realization. Harry had been pulled in by nothing more than good acting…well, that and killer sex, and now he was sure he wouldn’t be playing the fool anymore. 

Harry entered the baths with a curious confidence in his step that he hadn’t had even a month ago, before Draco had shattered his confidence by rebuffing his attempt to show something more than lust.

The object of his affection, Draco Malfoy, was already naked and bathing while Harry peeled away his robes and coat. Draco gave only the most marginal of glances in Harry’s direction then returned to scrubbing his neck and shoulders while he spoke.

“You’re a little later than usual…I’d almost given up on seeing you tonight, thought you had a study session of something of the like.”

Harry kept his calm, despite a weird sense of elation that threatened to overwhelm his senses. He kept his voice as level and relaxed as he could.

“Nothing like that. Just needed time alone with my thoughts. Took the long route to get here.”

“Hmmph,” Draco snorted, “It’s been a shit of a day to be a Prefect, and my ‘thoughts’ involve you hurrying out of your clothes and showing me that perfect arse.” 

Draco wasn’t usually so crass and lacking in subtlety, which suggested that he really was in a lousy mood, but the demeaning attitude behind the words pricked Harry’s newly reborn pride.

Harry felt his skin pink with anger, and he bit his tongue while he peeled away the last of his clothes. Just as he turned to face Malfoy, Harry had a sudden inspiration. If Draco Malfoy wanted a perfect bottom, Harry would give him just that…in spades…one last time before laying down the law.

He didn’t need Draco’s approval, and he wouldn’t spend another day hating himself for loving Draco, or tolerating Draco’s abuse of his desire, so this was it. Tonight would be a night that Draco never forgot, and when Harry was finished, they would be done for good, but Draco would know what he was missing, and he would know that it had been his choice that cost him all that Harry could offer.

His expression was carefully schooled in a way that would have done a Slytherin proud, and Harry’s eyes were lazy lidded and smoldering with desire. Draco flicked a glance back to see if Harry was getting on with his undressing, and wound up staring with wry admiration at the creature he’d helped to create.

Harry walked the edge of the bath with the grace of a panther, never letting his eyes off Draco Malfoy, smiling like a starving alley cat and giving a look to Draco that suggested that he was the nearest stunned mouse.

Draco’s glands responded instantly, and even in the steam and hazy light, Harry could see the impact he was having on Draco’s libido. The blonde’s cock was filling out nicely while he watched Harry saunter his way to the steps. Just the sight of Draco’s aroused interest was enough to make Harry’s dangling manhood twitch with immediate interest, and his own anger and resolve fueled him further. He would make this a night that they both remembered.

Harry only took a couple of steps into the water, stopping midway in. His hand slid down his stomach in lazy circles that Draco watched with interest, until it reached the downy fur that surrounded his rapidly rising cock. Harry ran his fingertips down the length of it, pausing at the head, tipping his chin back and smirking wickedly.

“You sound tense tonight. I think I can help you work some of that off. That is, if you’re still in the mood.” Harry’s voice was coy and full of unspoken promises.

Draco looked pleased, enticed by the prospect of a confident Harry, probably because, if Harry admitted it, he had seemed a little lackluster lately. His enthusiasm had waned after Draco had uncaringly hurt him, and seeing that this might well be the last time he ever did this with Draco, he figured he’d better make sure they both enjoyed it thoroughly.

Malfoy ducked his head under the water and kicked off against the wall of the bath, surfacing just a couple of feet from Harry. When he came up out of the water, his smirk was intact, and he stood in front of Harry, blond hair slicked back neatly and water dripping off of his slender, muscular frame. Harry had to admit one thing, Draco was easily the most perfectly put together person he had ever laid eyes on. No wonder he’d fallen for Draco so hard and so fast.

The very image of submission, Harry slid into the water and they circled each other until Draco was seated at the edge and Harry was half in the water, but ideally positioned for what he intended to start with.

Harry unleashed every tiny trick in the arsenal of sexual techniques that Draco had taught him. He’d paid careful attention for months, and he knew every sensitive spot on Draco’s body by heart. The sounds Draco made above him told him all he needed to know, and he let Draco’s reactions guide his every move.

One hand gently pulled Draco off, while Harry labored over the glans of Draco’s straining cock, lapping, offering teasing suction, and carefully swiping his tongue along the slit that only faintly oozed pre-come. Harry’s free hand roamed Draco’s chest, brushing fingertips idly against nipples that had grown hard with excitement.

All the while, Draco flexed his thighs and strained, trying to fight back the urge to promptly come in Harry’s mouth, but when the language of Draco’s body shifted to acceptance and a desire to simply let go and surrender to Harry’s hungry mouth, Harry changed gears and shifted his pace, keeping Draco in limbo, hovering back and forth between the relief of orgasm and almost unbearable pleasure.

Harry switched hands, allowing the one soaked in spit and pre-come to slip behind him discreetly, and rubbed as much into himself as he could, letting his other hand work the shaft of the handsome cock that currently occupied his mouth. There would be no lubricant for this night’s efforts, just as there had been none on the first night. He’d done this before, many times the last few weeks, and there was nothing Draco could do that would surprise him, but there were a few things he could do that would surprise Draco!

Once Draco’s cock was quite literally dripping with Harry’s saliva, Harry waited for the cue, bringing Draco right to the edge again, then stopping suddenly, savoring the groan of frustration that emerged a second later.

“Ahhh…fucksake, Harry! Merlin, that’s fucking good…just finish me off. I want to come in that pretty mouth of yours.”

The words were slurred with lust when Draco uttered them hoarsely, and Harry smiled just before straightening his face to an icy mask. He place a hand in the center of Draco’s chest while he sucked and gently pushed Draco back onto the tile, his pale legs still dangling in the bath.

Draco looked up when Harry’s mouth slid away from him, wondering what was interrupting an otherwise amazing blow job, and realized that Harry was quite suddenly crouched above Draco’s waist, with one hand still holding Draco’s erection steady beneath Harry’s waiting body.

Amazement was in Draco’s eyes while he watched, and felt, Harry lower himself steadily onto the prick beneath him with green eyes blazing all the while. Harry’s face never showed anything but raw hunger, and Draco was keenly aware of the fact that, from this position, he had very little control of anything, but at the moment he truly didn’t give a damn!

Harry was slowly straddling Draco’s not inconsiderable manhood, and sliding down the length of it as calmly and surely as could be. The feeling of being enveloped by slick, tight warmth was making Draco fight to hold onto his self control, and Harry knew that he would have little difficulty making his hasty plan a reality.

Draco’s teeth were gritted, and his eyes were now clenched shut, his mouth a rictus of awe and overwhelming pleasure. When Harry, who had needed all his concentration just to make the passage of Draco’s cock into him a bit smoother, finally relaxed and sat comfortably on Draco’s hips, he smiled wide and looked down at Draco’s handsome face, and made his peace with what he was about to do.

Harry began to grind, flexing muscles he’d only learned he had during the past few weeks, and, kneeling on the tiles, comfortable atop Draco’s hips, he started to add slow rises and sudden drops to his movements. The friction was bracing, given that there had been little in the way of lubricant, but from the look of Draco, the sacrifice was well worth it, and truth be told, excited like this for the first time in over two weeks, Harry finally enjoyed the way Draco felt inside him again.

Draco’s hands moved to Harry’s hips, and reasserting his control, Harry twined his fingers through Draco’s and pinned his hands to the floor. Draco almost thought to struggle, until Harry clenched hard as he slid up Draco’s length, making the blond hiss with pleasure and forget all about conflict for awhile.

Minutes blurred by while Draco writhed underneath Harry, desperate to reach orgasm, but pinned beneath Harry and unable to steer himself to completion. Harry leaned forward and lapped his way along Draco’s chest, sucking hard as he reached the pit of Draco’s throat. Here it was easy to hear the gasps and whine that his trapped partner struggled to hold in, and Harry decided it was time for a change.

It was just a whisper, but Malfoy heard it plainly even through a haze of lust.

“You want to come? You want to be on top?”

“Yesss!” It was more a strangled groan than a coherent word, but Harry heard it clearly and moved his mouth to Draco’s neck, just beneath his left ear.

“I want you to fuck me. I want the best you’ve ever given, nothing less than that. And I want it NOW!” Harry bit down hard as he released Draco’s wrists and rolled in unison with Draco.

The tiles were warm and slick in the hazy heat of the baths, but they were still hard, and in the mad scramble that followed Harry was sure they’d both earned some bruises, but none of that mattered at the moment. 

Draco rolled to the top, still rooted in Harry, wild-eyed and panting like a wolf from a long chase. For a moment, he seemed unsure of himself, and Harry raked his fingernails down Draco’s back with a violence that surely left red welts and must have taken away some skin as well. That put Draco back in gear, and he grabbed hold of Harry’s knees, tipping Harry back and sliding his own arms into position, folding Harry nearly in half in the process.

Draco practically growled as he delivered the most punishing, savage, vindictive grudge fuck he’d ever even contemplated giving, and Harry took it with pleasure, rattling Draco’s confidence a bit when he sometimes laughed between cries.

So much pent up emotion, so much anger and grief, all poured into a single act that shattered the silent tension that had hung between their past encounters.

Draco couldn’t hold a pace like that for long, not after the way Harry had teased him to the brink again and again, and it was a thankful thing that he couldn’t, because for all that he was pleased, Harry wasn’t sure how long his body could take this kind of pounding without suffering real damage.

He was almost delirious himself, and couldn’t recall when he’d come, but the milky evidence of it was there, streaming down the sides of his waist, and dripping from the head of his own half erect prick. All Harry knew was that he felt magnificent and alive again, after weeks of feeling like his was a living death, and he knew he’d made the right choice.

Draco pulled Harry up by the knees, holding Harry’s backside off the floor while he slammed into Harry’s arse as hard and fast as he could, and minutes later he keened as he came, grunting and gasping while he tried to keep his pace through the entire orgasm. 

When Harry felt himself lowered to the tiles again, he flipped a leg high, over Draco’s head, as he turned himself around, never allowing Draco’s just spent and still throbbing cock out of his body. It took a lot of effort to get the word out coherently, but Draco heard the hoarse and hungry demand from beneath as he looked at Harry’s backside before him.

“More!”

Draco may have been dazed, but he couldn’t help a certain arousal at this changed Harry. In his wilder fantasies, his partners had acted this way, but never in real life had anyone inspired so much from him.

Draco latched hold of Harry’s hips, digging his thumbs in tightly, and started with slow thrusts while his slightly confused erection hovered between the traditional deflation after orgasm, and rising again when called to.

It didn’t take long before Draco’s body responded to the stimuli that reached him: watching Harry’s tanned and smooth arse being penetrated by his own thick cock, the way it felt sliding into a tight warmth only he had ever known, and that he had grown fond of, or the sight of the muscles of Harry’s back flexing just beneath the surface of his soft, tanned skin.

Harry found that, slick inside with Draco’s freshly spent come, it was easier to take Draco’s thrusts than it was before, and his own erection was sluggishly returning, despite the fact that Draco rarely struck his prostate from this position. Harry pushed himself back against Draco’s pounding, matching Draco’s strokes until their bodies slapped together loudly.

Harry had always been comparatively silent during sex, given to soft noises and occasional groans depending on Draco’s choice of activities. This time he let go of all pretense, uttering lusty encouragements that once would have made him feel whorish, but now seemed only appropriate…and they elicited a very real response from Draco.

Draco’s hand cracked hard across Harry’s arse cheek, and Harry tightened reflexively, gasping loudly when the sensations that brought flooded his mind. Harry could feel droplets of sweat landing on his back, and the soft burn where Draco’s hand had struck him was a strange and dark pleasure in itself. He could hear Draco’s breath, which was louder and more bellows-like than ever before, and he could feel a faint trickle of the seed that Draco had emptied into him earlier working its way down his inner thigh.

Once, such things had filled him burning shame, but not anymore. Not now, and not ever again. He savored every second of it, soaking it in, holding these memories as closely to himself as he could, knowing that, if Draco would not bend, then he would have to break this ’thing’ between them off, once and for all.

Draco took a long time to come, but as his pace grew faster and faster, Harry was pushed into the dazed trance state he’d found so much refuge in during their past encounters. His body thrummed and tingled, and starry lights flickered before him even when his eyes were open. Draco shifted, pumping hard at a specific angle and grunting with the effort of it, but Harry felt the difference immediately, and was thankful that he was already on all fours, else he would have collapsed from it.

His body trembled violently, and he knew he was calling Draco’s name, but it was almost as if he was detached from the event itself and wasn’t even in charge of his own utterances. Harry’s semi hard prick pulsed and bounced, spitting droplets of come onto the tile beneath him, while he laughed and cried at the same time, full of joy and relief and wildly glutted lust.

Draco came less than a minute later, pushing Harry completely onto the floor, buried as deeply in Harry’s body as he could be, and only pressing fiercely against Harry’s arse every few seconds as his loins jetted into Harry’s already come-slick, but still hungry, passage.

Seconds later, Draco collapsed onto Harry’s back, still rooted in Harry, panting heavily, and laid his head to rest on Harry’s shoulders, kissing them the way he so often did when sated and happy with their evening’s exploits.

Harry laid comfortably beneath the heat and weight of Draco’s body, resting his feverish brow on the comparatively cool tile of the floor, limp, disheveled, and more thoroughly pleasured than he’d ever imagined. A part of him screamed against what he was about to do, especially in light of how good he knew Draco could make him feel. In the end, he knew he had to follow through, no matter how hard it seemed. His self respect demanded it, and Draco would never change for someone he could manipulate so easily.

Draco caught his breath, and finally spoke softly. “There…there’s no one like you, Harry. No one.”

He’d said things like that before, always afterwards, while he was still willing to embrace Harry and keep him close, and though such things had slipped from his glib tongue many times, Harry thought he could hear something different, and more genuine, in Draco’s voice now. 

Harry rolled very gently to the side, and Draco followed his lead, letting Harry remain curled close to him as they shifted. Draco’s softening cock slid wetly out of Harry’s arse, trailing hot come along Harry’s arse cheeks and legs.

Harry was suddenly aware of how empty he felt, almost painfully so, as if his body could have ignored any discomfort as long as Draco was still inside him, and the bright and tingling soreness that was upon him made him regret what he was about to do all the more.

He pulled away from Draco, who was more sluggish and complacent than ever before, and turned to face him. Then he lunged forward and kissed Draco on the mouth with a passion and violence that was unfeigned, and it was necessary to grab Draco’s arms to keep him from pushing Harry away.

Draco’s entire body was tensed, rigid with anger, but he was too tired to fight Harry off, and sullenly met Harry’s kiss with an almost sarcastic air that seemed to say, “Okay, I’ll play for a second, but when this is over, you’ll pay for it.”

Harry made that kiss linger, even though he could feel fresh tears trying to burn tracks down his cheeks, while Draco’s lips worked against his with a resentful ferocity. When he finally pulled away, before Draco could say a word, he whispered huskily, “I’m sorry.” 

Draco’s eyes had narrowed and his voice was a furious hiss. “Not yet, you’re not…but you fucking well will be! I told you-”

Harry raised his voice and cut Draco off. “I’m not sorry about the kiss! I’m sorry you’re either too piss ignorant to know when someone loves you, or too fucking inhuman to care! I’m not one fucking bit ashamed of how I feel about you, but I’m done taking your shit about it as of tonight! I deserve better than this and I bloody well know it. That’s the last kiss from me you’ll ever have to stomach. We’re through, Draco.”

Draco was spluttering in confusion, too gob smacked and exhausted to make sense of it all, and Harry rose calmly and began pulling on his clothes. It took almost a minute for Draco to work through a flood of emotions that cracked his usual mask, and settle upon anger as a representative.

“FUCK YOU, POTTER! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER! I KNEW YOU COULDN’T HANDLE IT! FUCK OFF! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND DON’T LET ME FUCKING SEE YOU IN HERE AGAIN!”

Draco’s normally pale skin was flushed crimson, and he was shaking with anger, while he screamed at Harry. The insults kept coming as Harry gathered his things and moved for the exit.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE! YOU KNOW YOU LOVED IT! ALL OF IT! I MADE YOU MY LITTLE BITCH AND YOU LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT! YOU’LL BE BACK! WHO’LL BE LAUGHING WHEN YOU’RE BEGGING FOR IT LIKE THE SLUT YOU ARE!”

Harry turned and smiled, shaking his head as if he were chiding a small child.

“You’re a good fuck, Malfoy, but if you haven’t got anything to offer me but your dick, you’re not the person I thought you were. If you ever figure out what it means to be a real man, come find me.”

Draco stood red and silent, still shaking with rage, and Harry turned coolly and walked away, whisking his cloak over his head and vanishing as he stepped out the door.

It hurt, and he knew he’d hurt Draco every bit as badly as he himself had been hurt, but what price could be put upon self respect? His legs were rubbery, and his knees threatened to quit halfway to the tower, and his aching backside had him limping long before he reached the common room, but he was sustained by a strength he hadn’t known he possessed until that night.

If Draco never made his peace with whatever demons haunted him, they would never be together again, but Harry had made his peace with himself, and he wouldn’t be burned by the same fire again, and pride in that would have to be enough to see him through.

TBC!


	6. The Heats On Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is dealing with Harry's absence poorly, and Harry isn't happy either, but Harry finds a way to get just a little closer to Draco. SIXTH IN THE HEAT! SERIES (now with new added Parseltongue!)

The Heat‘s On Hold.….by Samayel

 

Rumors flew fast and furious from Slytherin in the days that followed, and however carefully Harry may have hidden his interest, he was listening and watching for every detail, and what he heard and saw kept his rapt attention.

Slytherin, as a whole, came to the conclusion that Draco had completely cracked. In the days following Harry’s ultimatum, Draco had reportedly thrown multiple fits, and had savagely hexed and cursed any number of his housemates, not to mention the destruction he had invoked on his own room that first night. Apparently, the scene had resembled that of a freak, indoor tornado touchdown. 

Nothing too terrible was done to other students, but the sight of Slytherins disfigured by acne or painful boils, or fleeing for bathrooms to relieve themselves because of magically inspired gastric or bowel ailments, became so commonplace as to rattle the nerves of other houses, who feared that Draco might expand his list of targets.

The Marauder’s Map was Harry’s constant friend, and he observed Draco’s every movement night and day. Draco hadn’t kept company with anyone long enough to suggest a romantic interlude…and normally, those persons who approached Draco’s dot on the map wound up fleeing the other way with all due haste. 

Draco still went to the baths each night, alone, and stalked the halls much later than usual, menacing the younger years as never before. Rumors abounded of first years peeing themselves in fright when Draco rounded a corner and scowled at them. 

Oddly, given that Harry was obviously the source of the distress, Draco made no move against him personally, but when they were in a class or a room together, Draco bristled with visible anger. Fortunately, Draco now bristled with anger almost constantly, so no one noticed anything out of place. Either way, Harry felt a certain relief that Draco wasn’t openly attacking him, since an act like that would have quickly proven that the possibility of seeing Draco again was out of the question.

Self respect was a fine thing, Harry thought, but it had a price of its own as well. He was lonely. Not for friends…he had those and loved them dearly. He was lonely for Draco’s touch, and in a way he hadn’t expected, given that the past several months had involved seeing Draco every night.

In that final night he’d spent with Draco, his body had taken a lot of punishment, mostly from the rough handling he’d put himself through. He’d ached for two days, and sitting through his classes had been a far worse torment than ever before. Then the pain slowly faded to a faint soreness, and then even that was gone. Somehow, in a way that Harry couldn’t quite explain, he missed that discomfort more than he would have imagined. It had been the only tangible and real proof he had left of his time with Draco. 

At night, with his curtains drawn around his bed, he would watch a dot titled Draco Malfoy walk to the Prefect baths and languish longer than ever in them. When Draco had left and returned from his patrol of the halls, only to enter his room alone, Harry would fold up the map and sigh.

He was plagued by constant erections now, and wanking never really made his feeling of restless hunger go away. He went through the motions, and got the expected results, but it always seemed like a hollow victory, and the only pleasure in it was a temporary relief that faded much too quickly.

He wanted soft kisses on his shoulders, and teeth that nipped at his neck and throat, and soft hands that caressed with hidden promises of more in every touch. Most of all, he wanted to be held in the afterglow of a savage and perfect shag, sated and dreamy for just a few minutes again.

Fumbling about with his own fingers in the shower was a pathetic substitute for Draco’s gentle entries and skillful thrusts. Harry may have wanted Draco to try bottoming for him, but the only pleasures he had ever physically known had come from his time with Draco, and what pleasures they had been! There was no shame in missing that. However badly he wanted to explore the rest with Draco, at the moment, he just missed the way things had been, and the comforts he’d grown used to over the past months.

When Draco had wanted to please him, he had cosseted and spoiled Harry outlandishly, lavishing Harry with sexual attention and subtly kind words. A life spent with the Dursleys had left Harry receptive to and easily flattered by praise. Now the one person who had praised him most intimately and often, was bitter, angry and far away, and that absence stung more than Harry had imagined it would.

Would it have been worth it to wait just a little longer? Had he been right to break it off that night? It was possible that Draco might have just needed more time…and Draco’s awestruck words as they had lain, curled together on the cool tiles of the floor, came back to him.

‘There’s no one like you, Harry. No one.’

He’d felt so sure that Draco wouldn’t change, certain that his choice was right, but now loneliness, unrequited lust, and faint regret dogged his heels every night. He knew one thing for certain, though, and that kept him steady on his course. He deserved a lover. He deserved to be made love to, not merely fucked when convenient and then discarded. He had every right to hear someone tell him he was loved, and to feel someone’s arms around him for no reason other than just to show that they cared. Anything less than that was just a sham, and now he knew he was worth more than that, no matter what the Dursleys or anyone else had said over the years.

What came next was inevitable. Five days since the ugly rift had been born between them, Draco finally ran into Harry in an empty hall. Harry hadn’t checked his map recently, and certainly hadn’t planned to see Draco here and now, and the uncomfortable silence between them as they paused and just stared at each other was intolerable.

Draco’s face was pinched and angry, and Harry turned away after almost a minute had passed, muttering politely and trying not to look Draco in the eyes.

“I should just go. See you around.”

“Potter.”

Harry stopped and turned around slowly, privately loathing the way Draco’s gaze made him feel flushed and hungry all over again.

“Yeah?” Harry feigned as much indifference as he could manage.

“There’s a classroom down the hall. Let’s go.” So peremptory, as if Malfoy expected to be obeyed. Harry’s irritation with the blond flickered back to life.

“What for? I go where I please…but if someone asked politely I might consider it.”

Malfoy stopped in his tracks, having already started down the hall. The tension in the back of his neck, and the set of his shoulders, told Harry that Draco was fighting his infamous temper.

“Potter. We should talk. Hallways…not the best place. Classroom…fewer interruptions. Is all this clear? We have class in twenty minutes, so don’t waste time.”

Draco’s teeth were almost gritted while he growled out the words. Harry suddenly remembered their long series of past disagreements, and was feeling especially stubborn. He wasn’t backing down now!

“Ask…politely!” Harry growled just as tersely as Malfoy.

Draco was turning a shade of red and his hand was shaking like he wanted a wand in it, but a second later he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Harry was surprised by the act of self restraint, but not as surprised as he was by Malfoy’s next comment.

“Would you please join me for a short conversation in the classroom down the hall, Harry?”

It looked like it had taken everything Draco could muster just to get that out, and Harry fought the urge to laugh at the spectacle. Harry started walking down the hall.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Draco? Let’s go.”

As far as Harry was concerned, the incoherent growl of outrage that Malfoy stifled as he hurried to follow was well worth whatever discomfort this conversation would bring.

Once they were in the classroom, Harry threw a Silence Charm at the door and turned to Draco, who was standing rather uncomfortably beside an unused desk. Malfoy said nothing, just staring at Harry with an angry intensity.

“So. What is it?” Harry asked innocently enough.

Draco finally had something to react to, and exploded promptly. “What the fuck kind of question is that? You know what there is to talk about! Stop playing so stupid…I know for a fact you’re not that dumb, Potter! There’s more Slytherin in you than just the parts I put there! Fucking talk to me.”

Harry weathered the tirade, and ignored the less than subtle reminder of their past sexual exploits, then spoke calmly.

“I didn’t ask you to come here. You asked me. I’m more than willing to listen to you if you have anything constructive to say, but my days of putting up with your stand offish bullshit are over. I made myself perfectly clear the last time we spoke, and nothing has changed since then. So it’s back to you, Draco. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry’s tone was so level and calm that he even impressed himself. It was hard to be in a room alone with Draco and not jump the blond he’d been pining after, but he was doing just that, and astonishingly well.

Draco floundered, unsure and silent. He obviously hadn’t thought out what he wanted to say. Harry turned to leave, sighing in disappointment.

“Wait! I’m sorry I said those things that night. I was angry and they just came out. I didn’t mean any of them,” blurted Draco.

Harry turned back to Draco. “I accept that. It’s also only right to say thank you for apologizing, but those things you said didn’t hurt me. They have nothing to do with this. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”

Draco’s face flickered annoyance. “What? No apology for me? I apologized…it’s your turn!”

Harry reeled in surprise. “For what?!”

Draco looked at him like he was talking to a complete cretin. “For what you called me! What else? You said I was piss ignorant…and inhuman! I apologized, so should you.” 

It was Harry’s turn to grind his teeth in frustration. Of all the fucking nerve! It wasn’t that big of a deal, and he hadn’t wanted to shred Draco personally, but he’d needed to make his point clear that night. Harry bit back an angry retort, and thought for a second, while Draco watched him intently.

“Okay…okay! I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings. I don’t think you’re inhuman.”

“What about piss ignorant?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet…ask me again some other time.”

Draco’s face pinched and flushed again. “Fine! Apology accepted, with the option to decide on the last part later!” He looked away sullenly, and Harry waited, until he realized he did have something he wanted say to Draco.

“I miss you.” 

Draco’s jaw dropped and his head swiveled to look directly at Harry at last.

“But not enough to put up with being treated like a convenience. I’m not just a place you get to park your dick for awhile. If you’d let some of those walls down you’d find out what it’s like to have somebody who really wants to be with you. I just don’t think you’ll do that, for me or anyone else. That’s why we’re through. And I don’t think you’re inhuman. Just the opposite actually…I think there’s a part of you somewhere in there that wants something more, but you’re too fucking good at keeping it buried. If you ever dig that part up and let it see daylight, I’d love to be there. Until then, I hope you’re alright, because I don’t like seeing you unhappy…no matter what you may think.“ Harry folded his arms and waited.

Draco took it in stride, given that he wasn’t used to being spoken to that way by anyone, and it took him a minute to work through a string of conflicting emotions before he could answer. Harry waited patiently, then Draco stood up and walked for the door.

“I have to go…class…out of time. Later.” 

It happened so fast Harry couldn’t believe it. Draco was down the hall and gone in a minute, leaving Harry alone in the classroom, wondering what the hell Malfoy’s problems really were. They’d almost made a little progress, without Harry having to sexually exhaust Draco first, and Draco ran off the minute he was confronted with even a few guesses about his emotional issues.

Harry headed for class, irritable and confused, wondering where the hell all this would ultimately lead.

A few days later, having had time to mull that weird event over, Harry had a slightly better picture of where Draco was at, and had looked at things in a very new light.

Draco hid so much of himself, and obviously, there must be reasons that made him feel this was necessary. Harry had only looked at the matter from the perspective of the would-be boyfriend that wasn’t allowed to get too close, but he hadn’t looked at why that was a problem until now, and this sobered Harry quickly.

He wanted Draco as badly as ever, even more perhaps, but to give in now, just to satisfy himself, would reinforce Draco’s current behavior, just as he was beginning to face it. If he wanted Draco back, in a way that was healthy and right and might last, he would have to keep working at Draco’s defenses until the stubborn git opened up and gave Harry something more significant to help him with.

Draco needed help. Harry had kept his distance as best he’d been able, but there were so many signs that Draco wanted to express more, and needed Harry even if he didn’t say it, that the temptation to give in was constantly upon him. He wanted so much to be in Draco’s life, even if that meant occupying just a tiny corner of that life, that almost anything looked better than this constant separation.

Harry compromised. Inside, he knew he shouldn’t, but the notion he had in mind allowed him a certain leeway. Tonight, Harry would don his cloak and go to the baths early…well before Draco…then watch Draco’s behavior without revealing himself. All he had to do was restrain the urge to throw the cloak off and give himself to Draco, and he’d already proven he could resist that urge…hadn’t he?

Harry did just that, cloak and map in hand, several hours later. The journey to the Prefect’s baths went well, and with his map at his service, he would know if anyone other than Draco was nearby. In a moment of stark clarity as he reached the door of the baths, Harry realized that he missed this place, too. 

It was empty, as the hour was late, and most students were back in their common rooms studying or talking. Here he was, alone, in a room that had seen his entire life change. Three months ago, he’d felt like a different person, and given what he’d seen, and felt, and thought since then…maybe he really was a different person now.

In his mind’s eye, past events flickered before him as he looked around the room. Draco bathing while Harry watched in awestruck silence. Draco winking to Harry as he brought himself to orgasm, reveling in the show he was putting on for Harry’s benefit. That first, gently blocked, attempt to kiss Draco after they’d brought each other off the first time. Harry’s eyes flickered an echo of sorrow at that thought.

The memory of that sensational mouth and tongue at work on Harry’s hardened prick, and the softness of those nimble hands. Fingers that stretched and teased him effortlessly, and a tongue that mercilessly guided him to a state of repletion. Finally, ghosts recollections of so many high-octane, mind-blowing fuckings, that Harry couldn’t really separate the memories of them anymore. Except for certain highlights, many of them had blended in his mind, until they were remembered more collectively than individually.

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been letting such memories drift through his mind, but he snapped promptly back to reality when he heard the dull grind of the entrance opening. He stepped back to the far corner of the room, hoping Draco hadn’t suddenly taken to spelling the room against others. With Slytherins, you never could be sure what they were up to next. Come to think of it, given the circumstances, the same could have been said of Harry…though that thought was uncomfortable to say the least!

Draco Malfoy strolled into the room, looking rather distracted and vaguely annoyed, but at least he moved right to the bench and began preparing for his bath…instead of hurling any spells.

Harry watched, biting his lip with regret when Draco peeled away his shirt and slacks. That wonderful expanse of taut muscle and pale skin was as tempting to him as ever, but Harry watched without a sound.

Draco stood at the edge of the bath, looking around the place with eyes that looked full of unspoken thoughts.

“He’s remembering us, just like I was! I know he is.”

Then the lithe blond slumped into the pool and leaned back against the steps, just laying there, eyes closed tightly. Draco finally sat up and put his head in his hands, pushing his hair back and out of his face. Sitting there, unaware that he was watched, Draco had no pretense, and no mask of emotionless indifference. Without an audience, Draco looked genuinely sad, uncertain, and restless.

Shortly, Draco pulled out of his slump and listlessly went about the process of actually bathing, and Harry could smell the expensive products that Draco always used, even from across the room. Draco’s skin glistened wetly in the enchanted light of the room, and Harry was completely bemused by the site, wishing desperately that he could be in that bath, alongside Draco, engaged in the familiar ritual of bathing, after having glutted each other’s lusts completely.

The entrance to the baths ground noisily for a moment, and Draco’s head swung that direction sharply. Harry saw the look on Draco’s face, naked and honest, before he glanced to the entryway himself. It was a look of desperate hope.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice echoed lightly in the hazy steam of the room. There was no reply. 

Harry waited, as did Draco, but no one entered or spoke. Harry finally unfolded his map, while Draco warily went back to bathing.

Two dots were headed away from the room, in the direction of the dungeons. Zabini…Nott. What the hell they could have been up to was beyond Harry’s ability to imagine. Then he folded the map and looked back to the entrance.

Lean, dark and menacingly slow, a black snake with unusual markings in red and green, some five feet long, slithered silently toward the bathtub…and toward Draco Malfoy, who was rinsing his hair out, completely oblivious to the danger approaching him quickly.

Harry panicked a moment, unsure if he should break cover, and gasped loudly, drawing Draco’s sudden attention. Draco scanned the room and, seeing the approaching serpent, Accio’d his wand and waded backwards hastily, wide eyed and frantically trying to think of spells.

Draco flung a series of high speed hexes at the approaching snake, which clearly possessed some form of intelligence, as it moved unerringly toward Draco, but the spells struck and dissipated harmlessly. That’s when Draco backed out of the bath entirely and started yelling for help, firing spells almost randomly as he searched for something that would stave off imminent death.

Harry swung into action, stripping the cloak away and bellowing in Parseltongue.

{*STOP! LEAVE HIM BE!*}

The power in his voice made the words a clear command, and the snake reared up and turned to Harry quizzically, awaiting explanation.

*Massterr…we haave beeeen tasssked thisss. Mussst kill thisss one!*

{*You will not harm him! GO! Back where you came from! Harm no one in this place!*}

*Tasssked-*

{*I COMMAND YOU! DO AS I BID YOU! NOW! GO!*}

The snake was undoubtedly a Dark creature, even though Harry had no idea what breed it may have been. It resisted his commands, albeit with difficulty, and was struggling in the face of conflicting orders.

Harry’s anger and fear boiled over into an all consuming rage. Power fairly crackled around him while he gathered his strength and focused his will. The lighting in the room dimmed, and it felt as if a wind had come from nowhere. Spider web patterns appeared on the floor as tiles cracked under the weight of raw magical power, fueled by pure adrenaline and anger.

{*I AM YOUR MASTER NOW! DO AS I BID YOU!*} 

The force behind the words was crushing and the snake sank to the floor, head low in obeisance.

*Massster. Asss you wisssh.*

Harry was trembling and drunk on the power that was coursing through him when the snake hurriedly slid into a pipe and vanished, departing for parts unknown. Harry’s gaze turned to Draco, who had collapsed in the corner.

Centuries of service to Dark powers had marked the Malfoys in ways other than simple tattoos and other trivial trappings of fleeting alliance. More than a thousand years, and almost every member of that ancient and eldritch house had been a Slytherin. In the core of their souls, good or evil, every Malfoy responded to power…and every Malfoy could feel the power inherent in Parseltongue. Although Draco couldn’t speak it himself, the very center of his being responded to it.

Harry stalked forward, and looked down at Draco’s prone and naked form. Draco was trembling from head to toe, and his eyes were glazed, as if in some trance, looking upward at Harry in awe. 

Harry’s mind was still on fire with power, and the sight of Draco’s body at his feet, utterly submissive, excited him, flooded his senses with lust, and a dark and ugly temptation filled him.

{*You’re crawling for me. So beautiful, and you’re at my feet. Do you know how much I hunger for you?*}

Draco’s eyes rolled back in his head as if he was going to faint, and he laid his head on the tile in front of Harry’s nearest foot, almost mewling.

{*You understand me…don’t you? You know what power sounds like. You’d do anything I command, wouldn’t you? Sit up! On your knees.*}

Draco responded, gray eyes still glazed and pupils dilated. When he pulled himself onto his knees, Harry could see the blonde’s unrestrained erection pulsing and weeping, jutting outward from Draco’s lap. 

{*I spared your life. I should own you by rights. I could take you right here. Force pleasures from you that you would never give freely. I could make you my toy…and you would beg for more, wouldn’t you.*}

Draco’s head lolled, and a soft whimper of assent could be heard from his throat. His cock twitched hard as harshly guttural and sleek sibilant words echoed through the room, and with every utterance from Harry, surges of lust and rising pleasure coursed through his groin.

Harry gave a feral smile, jade green eyes almost alight with power. Thoughts of Draco flickered through his head. Ugly, lustful thoughts that would never have occurred to him in a fully rational state. Thoughts of Draco pliant and made willing by Parseltongue, that beautiful arse taken roughly and plundered by Harry’s aching cock. The power to make Draco more a whore to him than EVER he had been for Draco…was more than in his grasp…it dripped from his very tongue! Harry grabbed Draco by the hair and leaned close to his blankly worshipful face.

{*I have more power over you than anyone has ever had. You owe me debt on top of debt now. How shall you repay me, Draco? Should I take what is owed me from your body?*}

Harry kissed the slack mouth that looked born for his pleasure as violently as he pleased, his tongue invading Draco’s waiting mouth and searching savagely, seeking to know every part of the prize that was his to claim.

Draco came spontaneously, an intoxicated moan rattling out of his chest while white gobs spattered across the tiles and Harry’s pants leg. He was almost limp in Harry’s grip, held from falling to the floor by the handful of hair that Harry clutched tightly. That moment of release from Draco sparked something familiar, affectionate, and human in Harry’s power saturated unconscious mind.

The rage…and the magic that came with it, began to slip away. Harry came back to himself, suddenly cognizant of what he was doing, and he gently lowered Draco to the floor, trembling with exhaustion and more than a little shame.

Draco’s eyes were still glazed with lust and awe, even though he lay there weak as a kitten. Harry knelt to the floor and pulled Draco half into his lap, cradling the traumatized blond as carefully as he could, whispering gentle words in Parseltongue to soothe the one he loved.

{*I could do all those things…but I wouldn’t. That’s how much I love you. I couldn’t hurt you. Even with all the power in the world, I wouldn’t use it to hurt you. It’s over, Draco. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you, love.*}

Draco’s shaking began to subside while Harry stroked his back and held him close, and Harry cast an Enervate, hoping to snap Draco out of the shock-trance he was in. As soon as the spell hit, Draco crumpled in his arms and began to weep, muffled only by Harry’s robes.

Although Draco was beyond knowing it, and the hand that stroked his hair so gently never paused, hot tears were scalding their way down Harry’s cheeks all the while.

Harry wasn’t sure how much time passed. It could have been minutes or hours. Eventually, Draco began to stir in his arms, coherent at last. Dazed, unsteady, and with a furious blush rapidly spreading across his face and body, Draco stumbled upright and lurched toward his clothes, forced to stop by the sudden need to vomit.

Harry stepped forward to hold Draco steady, and was pushed away by a frantic arm.

“Are you alright? Do you need help? I’m here if…”

“No!” Draco’s voice was tremulous and hoarse, and a thread of desperation was clear in it.

“Go…go ‘way! Leave me…’lone.” Another string of bile erupted from Draco’s mouth, splashing onto the tiles of the floor.

Harry floundered, terrified and unsure of what to do.

“But-”

“GO! Get…out!”

Draco’s tone, however hoarse, left no doubt. He wouldn’t look Harry in the eyes, and kept his head turned away as best he could. Harry stepped back, burning with mingled sympathy and shame, knowing that whatever might have been possible between them could well have been destroyed in a single night.

Harry picked up his cloak and walked for the door, while Draco retched noisily behind him. The sound of it stabbed into him and he paused one last time. Draco spoke before he could, this time softer and clearer than before.

“Please…please just go, Harry. Leave me alone…”

Harry sighed, turned away, and walked out into the halls of Hogwarts, opening his map and occasionally wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeves. If he couldn’t do anything else for Draco, an invisible guardian would make sure that Malfoy made it back to Slytherin intact. For now, that seemed to be all he could do. Zabini and Nott on the other hand, they were a different matter altogether, and Harry had some thoughts about what to do with them.

 

TBC!!


	7. The Heat That Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tracks down Draco's attackers, and settles the score with room to spare.

The Heat That Burns……by Samayel

 

Draco remained in the Prefect’s baths so long that, had it not been for his map, Harry would have worried for Draco’s safety. He emerged so late that Harry, curled in a nearby alcove and half-dozing, was only woke by the sound of the opening door, and had to hurry to keep up.

Despite what Harry assumed were Draco’s best efforts, the Slytherin Prefect was looking haggard, unkempt (for Draco), and troubled. It made Harry’s stomach twist to think that what he’d done might well have hurt Draco more than the attempt on his life.

Harry puzzled that over, while following Draco through the halls. Zabini and Nott had to have unleashed that serpent, and after Draco’s temper fits of the past week, they had plenty of cause to bear malice…but murder? That spoke of something darker at play than mere house politics and schoolboy rivalries.

He needed more information, and Hermione probably shouldn’t know about this…it opened the door to too many uncomfortable questions…not the least of which was why Harry was in a Prefect bathroom with Draco Malfoy after curfew. He needed to know what kind of creature that snake had been, where it had come from, and who helped Zabini or Nott get their hands on it. Then he could deal with the rest himself.

Draco may not have been Harry’s boyfriend, or even his friend by any traditional interpretation of the word, but Harry desperately needed to assuage the guilt he was feeling over this night’s fiasco, and protecting Draco from his enemies seemed a good way to do that.

Draco made it to Slytherin’s common room and uttered the password, shuddering slightly as he did so. Harry could see why…the password was ‘Serpents Fangs’, and that certainly struck a chord, given the night’s events. Harry watched his map as Draco made his way to his room in peace. The dots named Zabini and Nott were in their beds where they belonged…and Harry ground his teeth at the thought of them sleeping soundly after nearly killing a classmate. Soon enough, he’d make them pay.

\-------------------------------------

 

It was exhausting, privately researching magical serpents, watching his map to keep tabs on Draco and his enemies, attending his own NEWTS level courses, and keeping up the pretense that nothing was out of the ordinary. The only thing that made all this possible was Draco remaining in his room, which had continued for two days straight.

Rumor had it that Draco was seriously ill, but Harry knew better. Whatever ailed Draco was more mental than physical. He’d done something more than just frightening Draco that night, he was sure of it. Something about the way he’d treated Draco had damaged Draco in a way that Harry couldn’t have predicted, and the blame for Draco’s current condition rested squarely on Harry’s shoulders.

Harry’s eyes misted up and the letters on the page he was trying to read blurred. This kept happening to him while he studied. Whenever he came back to the realization that he’d accidentally harmed Draco much more seriously than Zabini and Nott had, he started to tear up uncontrollably. He hadn’t been in his right mind that night, and he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault and that he’d saved Draco’s life, but the words seemed hollow. 

He’d heard that Draco wasn’t eating, and didn’t sleep much if at all. He hadn’t hexed any students, he’d warded his room heavily against intruders, and had only spoken briefly to Professor Snape, presumably excusing his illness. Apparently, Draco had simply brooded in wounded silence, alone in his room, ever since returning to Slytherin.

Harry wiped his eyes, cursing himself for being a soppy git when he should be looking for answers, and turned the page of the book he was reading, Libram Serpentia : Snakes of Power. The illustration on the new page made Harry’s heart skip a beat. Black, with markings of green and red!

The serpent that had attacked Draco was a Soul Winnower, and came from West Africa. It was an ancient creation of Dark magic, and a servant to powerful wizards and witches. They were incredibly rare, but possessed intelligence far beyond a normal snake’s, and they were highly resistant to magic. The venom they carried was not merely deadly, but also horrifyingly painful, leaving victims screaming for hours as the toxin destroyed internal organs before it stopped their hearts. Draco had nearly met such a fate, and Harry felt a prickle of fear when he thought about how close a call it had been.

There were two sources for such a snake that came readily to mind, and one was Voldemort. Harry knew for a fact that Draco was unmarked, and had refused to join the Death Eaters. It had largely to do with Draco’s adamant refusal to engage in any activity that didn’t immediately benefit himself, and having watched his father and other powerful wizards fall from grace into ignominy had biased him strongly against the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

The other possible origin was Zabini’s mother. She was reputed to be a witch of stunning beauty and power, whose seven previous husbands had all died under questionable circumstances, leaving her their fortunes each time. It was even possible that a fusion of these two possibilities was the answer. Perhaps Zabini acquired the snake from his mother in an effort to eliminate Malfoy on Voldemort’s orders?

At least now he had something to work with, and this constant bookwork was over. Harry shut the book with a sigh of relief, and gathered his supplies. Map, cloak, broom and wand were ready, and he would need them all, as well as a few other supplies, before he was done. Zabini and Nott would get theirs…and Harry would be giving it to them. Then he could safely work on undoing whatever damage he’d done to Draco.

\-------------------------------------

 

It had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. Getting into Slytherin’s common room was easy once he had the password. Zabini and Nott shared a room, and a little magic was required to get in, but they were sleeping targets, and a couple Silencing Charms and Body Bindings later, with the assistance of his cloak and the application of Levicorpus, Harry had removed them from the Slytherin dorms with no one the wiser.

The broom had come into play then, and with a bit of rope and some difficult maneuvering, he’d hung them from the central Quidditch pitch Quaffle hoop, and removed the spells from them.

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott woke up to find themselves bound by the ankles, suspended dozens of feet above the ground, in nothing but their underwear…and Harry Potter was floating in front of them with a smile that was absolutely predatory. Their initial attempts to scream revealed that the area around them had been muffled, keeping all sounds made by the three of them trapped and unheard by the castle’s slumbering residents.

Harry interrupted their confused and frightened rantings by punching each of them in the stomach just once, which left them choking for breath. Harry wasn’t an inherently vicious person, but he’d long since learned that cold blooded murderers had to be treated with ruthless force. With Draco’s life on the line, he could be as harsh as he had to be. Hot anger filled him, more real and intimate than the crazy rush of magic from the other night, and the heat of his outrage gave him a freedom he rarely possessed.

“Let’s skip the pretense and get to the point. You fucking well know why you’re up here, so don’t play the innocent with me! You brought that snake into the school, and you used it to try to kill Malfoy. I should kill you on general principle, since I don’t trust either of you to behave yourselves. You brought a Dark creature into Hogwarts, and tried to kill another student, so maybe killing you two is the only way to keep everyone else safe. I want you to convince me that I’m wrong. Tell me why you did it, and who helped you…and I might feel a little more generous about letting you live to see tomorrow.”

Nott wriggled helplessly, saying nothing, while Zabini spouted a string of curses and spat at Harry. 

“Fuck you! You’re a loon, Potter…and no one would believe you. You wouldn’t dare do anything to us, or they’ll put you away!”

“Wrong answer!” Harry punched Zabini in the nose as hard as he could, rather enjoying the satisfying crunch of cartilage that followed. Zabini howled while he swung backwards from the blow, and blood bubbled out of his nose, as well as from his mouth. Since he was hanging upside down, his howls were quickly drowned out by coughing and spitting as he tried to expel the blood that flowed into his mouth. Nott stopped struggling entirely and just hung there, wide eyed and amazed. No one had ever seen Potter act this cold blooded before.

“I have my own ways of finding out what I want to know. I found you two, and I took you out of your dorm with no one the wiser. I can do that anytime I want…so think about that before you piss me off! Tell me what you know…and tell it to me now…or I swear I’ll use you two as punching bags all night long, and if I’m not content when the sun comes up, I’ll dump your fucking corpses in the Forbidden Forest and let the crows takes care of the rest! How about you, Nott? Is there anything you want to say?” Harry let his broom float closer to Theo, and cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Theo Nott was fighting back tears, but screwed his face up tight and shook his head no, even though he looked scared as hell. Harry grabbed his head and swung him backwards into the structure he hung from. His head cracked hard against the metal, and Nott cried out, whimpering in pain as he swayed back and forth beneath the hoop. Harry moved back to Zabini.

“I’m the fucking Chosen One, Zabini. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid…and it doesn’t mean I’m soft! I’m the one who’s going to kill Voldemort, and no court will even touch me until that’s done. As long as I don’t leave a mess they can track to me, no one will even care if a couple more people disappear in this war. It happens all the time. You overestimate your own importance…and you really underestimate my fucking patience. This isn’t school…this is war, and I’ll kill you if I have to.”

Zabini was still spluttering while Harry held his arm to keep him still, and proceeded to punch him in the stomach repeatedly, stopping only when Zabini involuntarily began to vomit, letting strings of bile and blood spill to the earth below. Nott started to cry loudly, while Zabini began to gag, choking on the fluids that were filling his throat and sinuses.

“You know a man can drown in his own blood or vomit? It’s true. You’ll find out very shortly if you don’t start spilling something I want to hear. Who gave you the snake? Why did you use on it on Malfoy? NOW TALK, FUCKER!”

Harry drifted over to Nott again, watching the tears and snot dripping down Theo’s face while he swung upside down. Zabini was tougher than Harry had guessed, but Theo might be the weak link here. Harry decided to push the last button. He pulled a long knife from his pocket and drifted up to the rope at Theo Nott’s ankles.

“I’m tired of this shit! You fucking murdering scum! Maybe one of you will talk after you watch the other hit the ground and turn into a fucking stain!”

Theo screamed in terror, eyes bulging while Harry started sawing at the rope that bound him. Harry privately prayed that it would work. He knew he couldn’t kill in cold blood, but he was doing his best to make sure that Nott and Zabini didn’t know that!

“NO! PLEASE! I…I can’t tell you. They’ll…they’ll kill us! He’ll kill us if we talk! Please! You can’t do this!”

“Zhut up…fuggin’ zhut up.” 

Zabini was reduced to gurgling noises as he tried to interrupt Nott. Harry stopped cutting and floated down to Theo Nott’s face, looking him in the eyes.

“He WHO? He’s going to kill you? What do you think I’M going to do?! Worry…about…me!” Sarcasm dripped from Harry’s voice like venom.

“The Dark Lord,” Nott finally croaked, hanging limply and shaking all the while. “My father set it up. We could join if we passed a test. Malfoy wouldn’t take the Mark, and they wanted him dead for a being a blood traitor. Blaise got the snake from his mum. We snuck it in last week. It was easy, the detection spells just slide off it. I didn’t want to…you have to believe me. My father wanted me to do it. Fuck! FUCK! You have to protect us! They’ll kill us for what I told you…I’m fucking dead. I’m dead. I’m dead! I’M FUCKING DEAD!”

Theo was losing it completely, and Harry pulled the knife away, mulling over what to say next. He had what he needed to know, now he had to clean up the mess and cover all this up. Zabini interrupted again, having finally spat out enough to speak.

“Fuggin’ coward! Shit! Stupid fuggin’-”

Harry’s fist smashed into Zabini’s nose, leaving Zabini rocking back and forth while he dripped blood and howled.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! He just saved both your lives! I’m the best chance you’ve got of seeing the end of the year…but you’ll owe me!”

Harry rattled off some Healing Charms, leaving most of the lesser bruises intact, then cast Levicorpus on each of them. He cut the ropes loose and towed them to the ground like a pair of battered, human shaped balloons. On the way down, he pieced together a way to put a stop to this once and for all.

“Voldemort can’t touch you here. Let me worry about him. Here’s my price. From now on, you’re Draco’s guardians! Forget Crabbe and Goyle, you two will watch out for him day and night. Wanna know why? Because, if so much as one thing happens to Malfoy, I’ll look for you first! If he gets so much as a hangnail, I’ll hex you until St. Mungo’s needs a new ward! If he breaks a leg, I’ll cut both of yours off! If Voldemort pops up and AK’s him, I’ll make sure you two snuff it before I even go looking for that withered fuck! ARE WE CLEAR!”

Nott and Zabini nodded miserably, laying on the soft sand of the pitch, gasping for breath. Even Zabini’s angry glare had lessened into one of wary, if hateful, respect. Harry continued.

“The best advice I can give you is this. Talk to Dumbledore. Voldemort is shit scared of Dumbledore, and with good reason. He can protect you here, and I’ll deal with Voldemort in my own time. Maybe you don’t like that option, but I can tell you that it will work. Liking it has nothing to do with the matter. If you want to live to see the end of the war, do it! Just one thing…don’t ever let me catch you even thinking about hurting or killing another person here again. I’m not hiding from Voldemort…he’s hiding from me! If I ever have a reason to show you why that is, it’ll already be too late for begging!”

Harry walked away from the pitch, still biting back anger and adrenaline, leaving the two Slytherin boys on the empty pitch. How they got back in undetected was their own problem. Harry’s problem was much more complicated.

Now he had to find a way to patch Draco up, body and soul, or he’d never be able to feel the wonderful, giddy heat that came of holding the one he loved again. If he couldn’t heal the damage he’d done, he would never have Draco in his arms again, and his last memories of them would always be of terrifying the one he loved into a state of near complete collapse, and that was a fate Harry would do anything to avoid. 

TBC!!


	8. The Heat of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pieces together the source of Draco's illness, and the price of that knowledge is high. EIGHTH IN THE HEAT SERIES WARNING!!!---UBER ANGST!!!

The Heat of Shame…….by Samayel

 

Harry watched the events of the next two days from afar, and his map and cloak were getting as much of a workout as he was. As near as he could tell, Draco was still holed up in his room, refusing contact with anyone but Snape.

Zabini and Nott had made contact with Dumbledore almost immediately after they were found, still tied up and bloody, on the Quidditch pitch the next morning. What they discussed was their own secret, and Harry felt that if Dumbledore was involved, the two of them were unlikely to be a problem anytime in the foreseeable future.

Nott even offered to pass word to Harry if anyone even hinted at a threat to Draco, and Harry began to suspect that the curly haired Slytherin really wasn’t Death Eater material, and actually had been reluctant to harm Draco. Zabini, on the other hand, simply watched Draco from a distance and did what he’d been told to do, but no extra favors would be forthcoming.

Harry was back to feeling panicky and irritable. There was no one to punish or blame for Draco’s condition but himself, and he couldn’t think of a way to get to Draco and make it right without angering Draco even more. The whole thing had Harry flummoxed, and up late every night, unable to sleep until exhaustion took over.

Harry went to the baths again, for the first time since the Snake Incident, just to relax, and maybe remember something happier and sexier than his current woes.

Lounging in the steamy warmth of the bath, it was easy to forget all his troubles for a moment and recall those first few weeks of contact between Draco and himself. There had been camaraderie there, even if Draco had held the upper hand. Their conversations were relaxed and cheerful, spiced with humor, so unlike the bitter tension that stood between them now.

And sex. Not just sex, but stunning unearthly, skillfully taught sex. WAIT!

Skillful. Taught. Sex. Draco showed almost no intimacy outside of sex! He adamantly refused to bottom, or do anything that even implied being submissive. Harry had made him submit through Parseltongue, and Malfoy went into shock…and now depression! How many seventeen year olds had Draco’s level of experience in bed? Practically none. His attitude toward sex was incredibly casual, dismissing any emotional connection attached to the act as insignificant. He’d seduced Harry with no effort, as if he’d known exactly how to seduce a shy virgin into trying everything asked of him. It was all connected…all connected…all...

Harry sat bolt upright in the bath, unconsciously gasping in surprise.

Someone…somewhere…had initiated Draco into the world of sex, just as Draco had done to Harry, and whoever had done that, had almost certainly hurt Draco…savagely. Harry could almost feel it, like a puzzle piece snapping into place and making the picture whole. Everything about Malfoy’s erratic behavior shouted that he’d been hurt, and didn’t dare let himself get close enough to anyone to be hurt that way again.

‘Oh God! I…I almost raped him! Worse than that. I took away his ability to even say no! No wonder he’s freaking out. I’m his worst nightmare come to life! I know he at least liked me, then I…I…I fucking violated him! He’ll never touch me, now. How can he forgive me for something like that? Of course he’s hiding…he must think I’d…that I would… OH FUCK!’

Harry’s vision blurred while utter self hatred and nausea overwhelmed him. He stumbled out of the bath and staggered into one of the toilet stalls just before his rebelling stomach forced what was left of his dinner out and into the toilet bowl.

When it was over, Harry laid his head on the cool tile, weeping bitterly. He knew that anything he’d wanted from Draco was out of his grasp now. If he was right, and he was almost certain that he was, Draco had been scarred emotionally by someone in his past, and Harry had just ripped open the worst kind of old wounds. There was nothing to hope for now, except the possibility that he might help Draco face his past and get over what Harry had done to him. If he could just give Draco a better life, even with someone else, someday, that would have to be enough.

He could barely taste the acidic bile left in his mouth, for shame, and the knowledge of what he’d just lost, tasted far worse.

It didn’t matter if he angered Draco now. There was something much more important to do, and Draco liking him wasn’t part of the equation. Draco needed to know that Harry would never hurt him again, even if it meant severing the slender little bond that had grown between them this year.

Harry crawled up from the floor and found his towel and hygiene products. The conditioner Draco had given him was there, It seemed like so much more now. A baby step toward affection by someone so wounded that they had to struggle to show that they cared. Draco had struggled for him. 

He could remember the soft hands that tangled in his hair, caressed his cheeks, or stroked his back so gently. They’d felt like hollow gestures then, half measures meant to satisfy Harry, and perhaps they had been that, but they were also more. They may well have been all that Draco was able to make himself show, and that might well have been more than anyone else had ever seen!

It was well past eleven o’clock. Harry rinsed the bile from his mouth and brushed his teeth, then gathered his towel and other possessions, and quickly left. Cloaked and cautious, he crept down to the dungeons, knowing what he had to do. It was so heart breaking that he had no choice but to do this now, before his courage crumbled and he fled to Gryffindor, clinging to wisps of hope that likely meant nothing now. He’d see Draco tonight, and start setting things right.

The route to Slytherin was only interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Norris, who gave Harry an irritable hiss despite his cloak being in place, and then she stalked away, probably in search of more visible prey. Slytherin’s password hadn’t changed, and Harry was into the common room as quietly as he could manage.

It was the middle of the week, and few students were up this close to midnight. His passage into the common room went unnoticed, and he moved to the door down the dorm hall that was Draco Malfoy’s.

Moody and Tonks had taught Harry well. Aurors knew spells to breach wards that few wizards ever learned, but Harry had learned them well. Draco’s wards were better crafted than most, but Harry had enough power to carve through them like they were just cheesecloth. He spelled the lock on the door next, removing the last barrier to Draco’s room.

A door swung open down the hall, and Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott rushed out, wands drawn, searching the hallway hastily.

“Who’s there!? You see anyone, Blaise?”

“No. I’ll scan the commons, you take the door. Make sure no one’s already in there!”

Blaise moved to the commons, bruises on his face and stomach briefly visible in the dim light of the hall. Harry circled behind Nott, then eased off his cloak, tucked it into his book bag, and kept his wand at ready.

“Good job, Theo. I’m glad you were paying attention.”

Theo Nott whipped around, wand up, and sighed with relief when he saw Harry. Then he looked wary again, suddenly nervous about the nature of Harry’s visit. Blaise stepped back into the hall a second later.

“No one in the commons, did you check…fuck me! How do you do that, Potter!”

Harry chuckled. “I told you I have ways to get where I want, and ways to know what I want. I’m glad you’re watching out for him. I came to check on him myself. Has he come out or spoken to anyone? Besides Snape, that is.”

Blaise answered first. “No. Not at all. He just stays in there. I heard Snape’s ready to take him out by force and put him in Madame Pomfrey’s care if he doesn’t come out soon. We sent water and food, but it always gets left at the door in the middle of the night. Looks like he picks at it some, but not much. You know what’s wrong with him?”

“Potter, was it what we did? The snake…did it…” Nott interjected, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“No. It wasn’t anything you did. It was something I did. Let’s just say I’m here to atone for my sins. Malfoy…it looks like he’s paying the price for someone else’s.” Harry kept his voice level, but there was more truth in those words than he was comfortable with. He really didn’t want to cry in front of these two.

Zabini turned to go to bed, looking relieved, but Theo stayed a minute longer.

“Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you care so much about Malfoy? You and he are usually at wand point or looking daggers at each other...and I’m glad you stopped us from…from that. I really didn’t want it to go that far. It just got out of hand. I wanted to say thanks.”

Harry closed his eyes for a second. Nott seemed more sincere than Harry would have expected. Truth hurt, but honesty deserved the same.

“I think I hurt him…badly. I have to make it right. That’s why I’m here. I owe him that much. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I think I did a lot of damage before I realized what I was doing. As for thanks, you‘re welcome. I meant it when I said you were doing a good job. Keep doing your part, and I‘ll do the best I can.”

Theo nodded solemnly, and turned to go. Harry suddenly thought of something, and called Theo back.

“Theo…I want you to think back over the last seven years. Was there a year that Malfoy changed a lot? Just one year that made a difference? I think something happened to him, and I can’t be sure what, but I think someone else hurt him long before me. If you know something, it might help me help Draco back to normal. Please?”

Theo looked a little haunted, then he leaned forward and whispered. “Flint.” His eyes looked full of half forgotten sorrows.

Harry looked at Theo Nott sharply. “Marcus Flint hurt him? That was…that was years ago…Malfoy couldn’t have been more than fucking thirteen years old! That fuck! That sick fuck!”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was going to vomit again, or burst a blood vessel from rage! Theo took a couple steps back, nodding in agreement.

“He hurt a lot of people, but Malfoy got hurt the worst. If anyone asks, I didn’t say this, understand?”

Harry gave his assent in a distracted nod, while Theo returned to his room. He knew it! He was right about it all. He’d been so blinded by lust and guilt and his own needs that he hadn’t seen the dozens of tiny signs right in front of him. But…thirteen!!! Draco had been a brat back then, but nothing justified someone hurting him that way at that age.

It occurred to Harry for the first time that, quite probably, the damage to Draco was more serious than he could fix alone. All he could start with was the hope of getting Draco to open up just a little, or to understand that Harry would rather just be a friend than frighten Draco again. Getting Draco to work out his issues with the help of an adult professional might take an effort of staggering proportions. The implications were dizzying.

Harry looked at the door in front of him. Malfoy was inside, locking himself away from the world, dying by inches. Maybe it was Gryffindor arrogance to think he could change that, but he’d been as close to Draco as anyone could claim, and just possibly a little closer. If anyone had a chance of making Draco seek help, Harry likely did.

Harry opened the door softly, stepped in, and closed it behind him.

Draco Malfoy had been half-dozing on the bed, and jerked to awareness when Harry stepped in. Harry took a good look at Draco, and was terrified by what he saw.

Draco was a mess. Unkempt, unwashed, and unshaven. Soft scruff had appeared on his chin and lips, and his eyes were dark and hollow…gaunt. He’d obviously lost weight quickly, and he’d been quite slender to start with, but the past several days of near starvation had left him slat-ribbed and waifish. His hair hung loosely past his shoulders, still smooth, but looking dull and utterly without luster. Even the pale pink skin that set Harry’s dreams on fire had gotten paler, ashen and sickly.

Whatever wounds lurked in Draco’s heart had never really healed, just scabbed over, with the poison locked in for years beneath the scar. Harry had brought the poison out, and it looked like it was killing Draco. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, and Draco broke the silence, staring at Harry with haunted eyes.

“I knew you’d come.” It was almost a whisper. “I know what you want…don’t…don’t say anything. It’s your right. I owe you my life.”

The words seemed halting, and Draco’s voice was threatening to break. Harry stood in front of the door, confused and uncertain, horrified by this shattered wisp of Draco. Draco kept talking nervously, sliding the sheet away from himself and sitting up at the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t look Harry in the eyes.

“I owe you this. My debt.” Malfoy fumbled with the drawer of his nightstand.

“You have the right. I owe you.” His hands were trembling when he withdrew something from the drawer.

“Yours to collect. Life debt.” Draco placed the phial of lubricant that Harry had abandoned in the baths almost two weeks ago onto the dresser edge. Then he turned his back on Harry, knelt on the bed shakily, and placed his arms around a pillow, pulling it to his face. He laid his head on the pillow, leaving his backside exposed on the edge of the bed, clearly offered willingly to Harry. His face was turned off to one side, and Harry could see the tension in in the muscles of Draco’s back. He could see the small tremors of fear that randomly shook Draco’s entire body. He could see the hopeless tears that slid down Draco’s one visible cheek, through an eye that was clenched shut. And he heard Draco’s voice, now down to a plaintive whisper, meeker than he‘d ever sounded before.

“Please…please don’t make it hurt. I’ll do what you want…just…just don’t hurt me. Please.”

Harry stood in horror, looking at what he’d had a hand in causing, and wished that he had the means to kill himself that instant.

‘I should die. I belong in hell. I didn’t do all of this to him, but I was part of it. I fucking destroyed him. I wasn’t first, but I tore apart whatever was keeping him together. They were right…they were all right…the Dursleys, Snape, all of them. I didn’t control myself, and look at him. I’m a fucking monster! LOOK WHAT I’VE FUCKING DONE TO HIM!’ 

Harry stood frozen in place, mouth agape, barely aware that he was crying. Malfoy kept muttering promises of compliance, as if he was in a trance, waiting submissively to be violated in spite of being obviously terrified past the point of rational thought. All he could see of Harry was the monster that had robbed him of his will and threatened to take even more. It took Harry longer than he could recall to snap out of the cycle of all consuming self loathing and repulsion, and get his mind back in the real world again.

He took a few halting steps forward, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t sure he could handle touching Draco like this, not even to put him back to bed. Harry stretched a hand forward tentatively, and touched Draco’s back as gingerly as he could, while whispering Draco’s name.

Draco’s entire body tensed instantly, as if preparing for violence, and though his eyes were still screwed shut, Malfoy’s mouth had opened in a rictus of fear, and his lips seemed to slowly shape the word ‘no’ over and over again, never voicing it, as if he didn’t dare offend his would-be attacker. 

Harry flinched and pulled away. How? How could he help Malfoy like this? There had to be something he could do. Harry grabbed a chair from Malfoy’s writing desk and brought it to the side of the bed.

Harry sat down quietly and began to talk. He did his best to keep his voice from betraying his own fear and disgust, and he had to turn his head away. The sight of Draco, utterly broken, offering himself in some kind of sickening attempt to placate a Harry he believed would do such things to him was more than he could take and stay completely sane.

“Draco. I didn’t come here for that. I won’t hurt you. Not this way, never. I didn’t understand before, but I do now. I never meant to cause this. When we were together, all I wanted was to be closer to you. I didn’t know, Draco. I swear I didn’t know. You gave everything you could, but I couldn’t understand why it wasn’t more. I just didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you so much it hurts inside. I missed you every minute we were apart, and I still miss you now. I wanted a lover so badly, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I never meant to scare you, and I can’t take it away, but I can promise it will never happen again. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything. You owe me nothing, I owe you everything. I’ll make this up to you…I swear it.”

Harry lost track of how long he’d been talking, but he was suddenly aware that Draco had passed out, snoring softly, oblivious to his own tear stained cheeks. 

Draco had slumped sideways, almost in fetal position, in his sleep, and simply lay limp upon the bedcovers. Harry reached over carefully, and took the sheets from the other side of the bed, gently draping them over Draco‘s slumbering body. Then Harry slid the drawer of the nightstand open, and placed the phial of lubricant inside of it, closing the drawer and hoping that Draco wouldn’t wake to anything that would frighten him in the morning.

It was almost past two in the morning, and Harry sat, brooding, in the chair beside Draco’s bed. He would never be able to look at Draco the same way. The frightened, disheveled, vulnerable creature he’d witnessed bore no resemblance to the skillful and manipulative lover, or the spoiled adolescent brat, he’d known before. Tonight he’d seen a human being, an eggshell fragile and beautiful person, smashed and broken nearly beyond repair, all because of the selfishness and indifference of others, including himself.

Maybe this was what it meant to be an adult. To have to know such things and live with them, no matter how much they tore and hurt and burned inside him. It was hard and horrible, and Harry wished he could turn back the clock and make the past weeks disappear. He’d been so comfortable with his ignorance, flirting with the sexual trappings of adulthood, only to tumble headlong into a place that made him want to run, screaming, back to the safety and blissful innocence of childhood. This was life…and that scared him to the very core of his being.

TBC!!!


	9. The Heat That Sears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confronts Draco on a number of topics, and Draco seems ready to talk, until Harry strikes a taboo subject.

The Heat That Sears…….by Samayel

 

Harry woke, uncomfortable as hell, in the chair beside Draco’s bed. It was quite dark, and his eyes needed a minute to adjust while he blinked in sleepy confusion and rubbed at them. The past night came back to him suddenly, and his heart ached, sorry to be reminded of the troubles laid upon it. Harry sighed heavily, and heard the rustle of sheets next to him.

Blinking owlishly, Harry could make out Draco’s form, bundled in blankets, leaning against the farthest corner of the bed from Harry, just staring at him speculatively. Wide awake. He wondered if Draco was lucid yet, and risked a few words.

“Hey. I missed you. I just-” Draco cut him off with a hoarse voice, but at least his tone was lucid.

“Why?”

“What?” He wasn’t sure what Draco was asking about.

“If you aren’t here to…why are you here?” Draco didn’t budge, safely cocooned in blankets, looking nervous and curious at the same time.

“You need to eat. You’ve been in here for almost five days, Draco. People are worried. I wanted to see if I could help.”

“Oh.” Draco’s eyes flicked nervously down.

“Draco…I meant it when I said I was sorry. I didn’t even know what I was doing…I-”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Harry.” Draco’s voice was soft and relatively calm, but a certain tension was almost palpable. “It wasn’t your fault. Magic is like that…sometimes. Anyone could wind up holding onto a force bigger than they are. Happens all the time. Just…just forget about it.”

Harry braved another question. “I don’t even understand what happened. Really. Why did you…react that way when I…spoke Parseltongue?” Left unspoken was the way he had used Parseltongue, nearly coercing a scarcely conscious Draco into complete submission. 

Draco ran a hand through his lank hair, and resigned himself to explanation. “It’s a pureblood thing. You wouldn’t understand. Only the oldest houses, the ones that have been steeped in magic for more than a millennium, are affected that way. Parseltongue is the language of power. The oldest language of wizards. Most of us can’t speak it, or understand snakes, but we respond to it when we hear it. Why do you think so many old families went over to The Dark Lord right off.”

Harry shook his head in surprise, this was all new to him, and it begged other questions. “Why didn’t you go over to Voldemort then? I know he was the one who ordered your death, and that the snake was supposed to do it. Why not serve him instead of risking death?”

Draco snorted derision. “Good question! You really wanna know the answer to that, Potter? Think you can you handle it?”

Harry heard anger in Draco’s tired voice, and he set his jaw to keep from responding to it. Draco needed to get these things out, and letting himself be driven off by Draco’s attitude wouldn’t help. He knew now that Draco pushed people away as a test, to see if they really cared of if they cared only when it was convenient. He wouldn’t fail that test. He nodded assent, looking Draco in the eyes.

“My father took me to a Dark revel. Just once. I was too young to be marked, and the Dark Lord had just returned. My father was the proudest man I’ve ever known, but when the Dark Lord spoke in Parseltongue, my father groveled on the ground like a commoner, and I was right beside him. As soon as it was over, I made excuses to avoid other meetings. When it was my choice, and my father was sent to Azkaban, I warded the manor off and refused the Mark. I didn’t ever want to feel that way again. Of course, that didn’t do much good, since the only other Parselmouth in existence wound up closer to me than planned.”

Unspoken again, was the depth to which the encounter with Harry and the serpent had frightened him, but Harry was too ashamed to push the subject further.

“You sound better. Last night…you were…kind of ‘out of it’.” Harry couldn’t push the memories of Draco’s tearful submission out of his mind. It was impossible to look Draco in the eyes whenever that memory played through his thoughts. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t know I’d…hurt you that much. I’d never have come if I’d thought that it would upset you like that.”

Draco looked indignant for a moment, not liking the implication that he could be hurt, but there was no hiding his condition the last few days. Draco’s frown slid away slowly, replaced by an expression that hinted at deep thought. After a pregnant pause in their conversation, he surprised Harry pleasantly. “I’m glad you came.”

“Last night…I hadn’t taken my Calming Potion. Snape brought me some a couple days ago. Extra strength. I…I have anxiety attacks…when I get too stressed. I thought you’d show up sometime, just not that late. I kind of panicked when you showed up. I…haven’t been sleeping well…or eating much. Makes me kind of dizzy. I meant it when I said that wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t know. But…Harry, about the wizard’s debt…I want to talk about that.”

Harry was amenable to any subject that Draco wanted, as long as it kept him talking, then it hit him. Draco was pushing things away, changing the subject, like he’d done for too many other things. He needed to keep some pressure on Draco, but how much was too much? Again, he remembered that the skill of a professional might be called for, and he just didn’t have that.

“Draco, what did you mean last night…about the life debt? Did you think that I’d…that I’d really-”

“Don’t tell me you never heard of one? You saved my life. It’s the most ancient of magical traditions. Wizards are few, when one saves another, it creates a sacred obligation. Harry, I owe you my life. Once you set the terms, I have to meet them. No matter what they are. I…I thought…you wanted…”

Harry scowled. “How could you think that…about me? Do you really think that’s all I’d care about?”

Draco hung his head a moment, then whispered. “No. Not really. I was afraid, because I knew you wanted that someday, and…and because of what you did…after the snake. I don’t know…I was wrong.”

Harry tread carefully. Draco might be talking, but there was something fragile in his voice, and an air about him as if he were some spun glass ornament, ready to break into a million pieces if handled with less than the greatest care. 

He leaned forward on the chair, elbows on his knees and rested his head on his steepled hands.

“I don’t care about ‘that‘. Not really. I might never have cared about that…if I could have held your hand. Or walked around the lake with you, or just kissed you when I wanted to show you how I felt. The rest…that didn’t really mean so much.”

Draco leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Harry. I owe you a wizard’s debt, and I’ll pay it as you see fit, but after that…I’m just not sure. I…” Draco sucked in a breath of air and held closed his eyes a moment. “I don’t know if I can give you those things, Harry. Some of them, maybe, I even thought about it…then. You deserve it all, no conditions, and I don’t know if I could ever make it that far.”

Harry stared at the floor for a minute, trying to keep his calm, knowing that Draco’s words echoed his own fears about what might ever be possible between them.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to help, though, does it? I’ll have to think about the life debt, but I’d never ask anything of you that…that…well, nothing like last night would ever happen! I wouldn’t do that to you, I promise.”

Draco nodded quietly, and he looked a little more at ease. “By the way. I’m not blind or deaf in here. Zabini and Nott show up looking like they were trapped under a stampede of centaurs, and now they’re hovering over me like a set of mother hens. Care to tell me why that is?”

Harry blushed furiously and found himself hemming and hawing before he could speak. The way he’d felt that night was so different from his current circumstances. It was hard to splice two lives together, one being The Boy Who Lived comfortably with death and danger, the other being Harry Potter, who never knew what to say most of the time.

“I…uh…well. Damn. I kind of convinced them. They brought that snake into the school. I just had a ‘discussion’ with them about what was appropriate behavior at Hogwarts. They saw my point, and…um…now they’re trying to make it up to you. Nothing all that serious…really.” 

Harry tried not look Draco in the eyes. His flaming cheeks were already enough to give away that there was quite a bit more than he was saying. Draco’s smirk made a pleasant reappearance.

“Uh-huh. I see. So the rumors about them being kidnapped in the middle of the night, in spite of being in a locked and warded room, in the middle of Slytherin’s dorm, and being found bound, bloody and nearly naked on the Quidditch pitch…those were just exaggerations, right?”

“Well…maybe…but…well-” Draco cut him off.

“Thank you. I know why you did it. Nicely done, too, just so you know. I approve. You really should have been a Slytherin. Nott should have been kicked over to Hufflepuff. He was never cut out for that kind of thing, no matter what his father thinks. Now that I know it’s ‘taken care of’, I don’t see any need to follow up on the matter myself. Frankly, I’m just too tired to deal with it anyway.”

Harry sighed relief. At least that topic was closed. The mention of Draco’s exhaustion set his mind to work again. Draco needed to eat, and Harry had every intention of getting him to do so, short of using actual violence.

“You’re exhausted because you’re half starved. You need to eat, Draco. You belong out there, and this can’t last forever. Snape will take you out of here and drop you in the hospital ward if you don’t start getting around again. I can get some breakfast from the elf staff if you want?”

Draco seemed pensive for a moment, then the liveliness he‘d shown slipped away, and he slumped back onto his pillows. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Harry. I talked to Snape. He made the potions for me after he…after I talked to him about some things. I’m just tired, Harry. I don’t want to go out there yet. Don’t you get it? Look at me. Think about how we’re talking right now. Do I seem like my usual self? At all? Well, do I?”

“Well, I think it’s good that you’re talking to me like this. You seem different…more open. I like it. I think it’s healthy, Draco.”

“Bullshit. You obviously don’t get it! I’m a Slytherin. I’m supposed to have a certain distance from everything. I’m supposed to have a mask in place that people can’t see through. I’m supposed to think before I talk or act. I…I just can’t…do it. Not yet. I’m not ready for that yet. Snape understands.”

Harry hadn’t thought of things that way before. Slytherin was still, in many ways, a house of mysteries to him, no matter how much time he’d spent around Draco the last few months. It made sense. Draco had been shaken up so badly by near death, near violation, and memories of things he’d never shared, that he couldn’t make himself aloof anymore. Without the ability to control himself in public, he’d humiliate himself eventually, and that was a blow to an already fragile ego that Draco just didn’t need.

Harry nodded acceptance and Draco’s bristling irritation faded a little. There was one topic yet un-broached. The hardest one of all. Harry called for Dobby, hoping that food would take the edge of his fear of pushing Draco too far. The house-elf appeared with a soft crack of Apparition.

“Master Harry, sir! How can Dobby serve you!” Dobby’s smile and wide eyed cheerfulness were a refreshing change from the grim tension that had been hanging over them. Draco watched the proceedings with almost clinical disinterest.

“Dobby, we could use some breakfast right here today. Could you check with the kitchen elves and bring a tray of Draco’s favorites? I might be here awhile, so, if you could pass the word to Ron that I’ll be late for class, I’d appreciate it very much.”

Dobby capered about happily. “Oh! Anything for our Master Harry! Dobby can do these things easily! Right away!” With another muted crack, the house elf was gone.

Draco huffed indignantly. “Really, Potter! You’re not my mum! I’ll eat when I’m ready, and how is it that you’re so tight with the elf staff? Harry Potter can order breakfast whenever and wherever he wants? How does that work?”

“Treat them like human beings who have actual feelings. You’d be surprised how often that gets results. I’d suggest that for humans, too, but I’m going to assume you already know that. We’re lucky to have house-elves that look after us, showing a little appreciation for them doesn’t cost a thing, and it certainly makes them happy.” 

Harry bristled a little, reminded that Draco was a product of the wizarding world’s uppermost class, and behaved like one most of the time. His disregard for those that served him was one of those traits that Harry would never see eye to eye with.

Draco shrugged, non-committal, and dismissed the subject entirely. It was infuriating, but pure Draco. “How long you planning to stay? It’s a few hours ‘til classes start. Snape will be here, soon, bringing a fresh potion for me. I’d strongly suggest not being here when he arrives.”

Harry smiled an almost Slytherin smile, and answered matter of factly. “I’ll leave when I’ve seen you eat a decent breakfast. That’s why I asked Dobby to let Ron know I’d be late. I know how stubborn you are. You will feel better with food in you, and I’m not afraid of Snape, so it looks like it’s eat or tolerate my presence forever.”

Draco, glancing away distractedly, muttered, “That’s not much of a threat.”

There was a compliment hidden in Draco’s complaint that Harry recognized instantly. Hearing that Draco found his company acceptable made his heart leap giddily. He could only barely contain the urge to smile, when Dobby popped back into the room, bearing a tray of food almost the size of his own body. Draco gaped at it, horrified by the amount of food that Harry supposedly expected him to eat.

“You’re bloody taking the piss! I can’t eat all that! I’ll never be rid of your insipid Gryffindor arse!”

“Easy, easy! Some of that is for me, I’m starving! You just have to eat enough to support a human life and I’ll be content.”

“Oh. Alright then. I…I think I can deal with that. I’m not very hungry, though. Are those éclairs?” Harry suppressed another smile.

“I asked for your favorites, didn’t I?”

Draco snorted, attempting to feign complete disdain. His eyes, however, betrayed him completely, as they kept flicking back to the tray that had been placed on his bed. Dobby popped away with a hasty bow and was gone. The food sat between them, and Harry tucked into the eggs and sausages with gusto, loudly smacking his lips and deliberately making noises of enjoyment. 

Draco managed to maintain his air of disaffectedness for approximately two bites of éclair, at which point all pretense was lost.

It became a bit of a free for all after that, and Draco made use of the silverware that been politely left, and began filling his face, every so often looking irritably at Harry’s smile, and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck you, Potter. Gloating looks terrible on Gryffindors. Wipe that smile off your face, it’s ruining my appetite.”

Harry paused from a mouthful of eggs and sausage. “I don’t know, but it looks more like your appetite is ruining that tray.” 

There was something very comforting about Draco’s off-hand manner returning. It set Harry at ease, implying that Draco really was feeling better, and the searing realization that his presence was welcome did a lot to soothe the fears he had the night before. The previous night had burned itself into Harry’s brain immortally. He’d never seen a human being so broken inside, and even the memory of what he’d seen made him flinch, but Draco seemed in control of himself again, at least partially, and Harry rejoiced privately that the damage he’d unwittingly inflicted had been forgiven.

Between them, they devoured the tray of food in relative silence, only a few comments interrupting their meal. Draco laid back contently, rubbing his stomach, which had distended slightly from gorging himself, until he pulled his sheet up a bit self consciously. Harry chuckled and Draco bristled a little.

“Bite me. It’s been a hard week. I ate, I feel better, so I hope you’re happy.” Draco sighed. “We need to talk about the wizard debt, Harry. You can’t let something like that just hang. It’s powerful magic…old…and it demands being settled. Have you thought about it at all? Because it needs to be settled on and agreed to before the full moon. You have to set the terms, and then I have to meet them. I have to do what’s been commanded of me, until my task is complete. It’s too important to put off, so at least throw some ideas my way.”

Harry had thought about it while they ate, even though he hadn’t mentioned it. There were so many possibilities, with a debt like that hanging over someone else’s head. So many ways a person could command the fulfillment of their own desires. The temptation was there, just beneath the surface of Harry’s thoughts. He could feel the niggling offer of power over Draco, almost implied by Draco’s own words, as if Draco were subconsciously flirting with his own fears. He could rationalize asking for anything he wanted, make it sound reasonable, make it pleasurable for Draco as well as himself.

He made his choice. Draco probably wouldn’t like it, but what Draco liked or disliked had nothing to do with what Draco needed, and what Draco needed was someone who better knew how to counsel Draco through his past hurts.

“I’m going to ask…”

Draco’s chin lifted, and he stared at Harry intensely, making it hard to concentrate while nervous gray eyes searched him for intent.

“I want you to seek out someone you trust, someone who would be able to help you. And I want you to talk to them, about you, about what happened this past week, even about the past few months.”

Draco’s gaze was full of questions, and his brow wrinkled with concentration as he tried to puzzle out where Harry was going with this. Harry kept going, approaching the topic he knew was more taboo than any other.

“I want you to talk about all of that to them, and tell them honestly how you feel about it. And I want you to talk about Flint.”

Harry saw the change come across Draco like the shadows of clouds moving across a field. Draco blanched, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing in shock and surprise.

“How…how the fuck?! You…you don’t…what do you know about Flint?” Draco spluttered helplessly. Harry knew things had gone pear shaped already, but he’d made up his mind. He could see Draco’s hands trembling

“I doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know. You need to work those things out with someone who knows what they’re doing. That’s my command, and that’s what I want. The debt will be discharged when they feel you’ve worked through everything you need to.”

Draco had started to hyperventilate, wide eyed and almost hysterical. Harry had let himself be lulled into false security by Draco‘s pleasant demeanor that morning, and hadn’t realized that Draco might well relapse under too much pressure.

“How fucking dare you! That’s none of your fucking business, Potter! Fuck you and what you think you know! Get out! Get out of here! Get out of my face and go back to Gryffindor!”

He was reaching with shaky hands for the potion bottle beside the bed, and Harry leaned forward to get it for, trying to make some tiny peace offering, even though he had no intention of changing his conditions.

Draco shoved the tray and silverware at him, letting them clatter to the floor after bouncing off Harry’s legs.

“Fuck you! You…you perfect shit! You have no right! No…no right! Just go away!”  
Draco paused to gulp the potion down as quickly as possible, then wiped the tears that were forming out of his eyes, glaring at Harry furiously.

Harry tried to lean forward, just to speak more intimately, not meaning any harm by it, and Draco flinched, backing away to the corner of the bed, pulling his blankets up and drawing his wand! His wand point trembled violently, but remained aloft, and Harry backed away.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME! GET OUT! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! GET OUT OR I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING HEX YOU! I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

It made his stomach sick to see Draco like this, especially after coming so far in one morning, but he could tell that staying would lead to disaster. Draco was out of control, even with the potion, and he’d touched a nerve too raw for safe contact. There was nothing left to do but bite back his own tears and go.

Harry moved to the door, slouched with shame while he heard Draco’s gasping panic breaths behind him, and as he opened the door, he turned back and spoke one last time.

“I’m sorry. Believe me I’m sorry, but I want you to get well more than I want your friendship, so my command stands. That’s your debt. It’s yours to pay. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind him and upped the wards on it carefully, leaving Draco secure in his room, but he could still hear cries of incoherent rage from behind the wood and stone, and every syllable of anguish was a dagger in his chest.

Harry turned to leave, and found himself staring at Severus Snape, whose scowl of disapproval was legendary, and whose countenance suggested that he was fighting the urge to curse Harry right on the spot. This was decidedly NOT a good start to the day, but it already a right shit of a morning, so why not compound it with a dash of Snape’s outrage?

“Potter! My office…now! Wait until I arrive! We will discuss the matter of you wandering around in MY…HOUSE, when I get there.” Snape’s teeth were gritted, except for when he yelled, and Harry scooted off, ignoring the shocked glances from other Slytherin students in the common room as he left Slytherin’s dorms behind.

He’d been in Snape’s office for twenty minutes when the professor returned, slamming the door behind him and stomping to his desk, barely contained fury radiating outward from every pore.

“Sir, I…”

“SILENCE! There is nothing you need say, Potter! Any statement from you is pure drivel, an airborne menace, and little more than audible flatulence. Fifty points from Gryffindor for being in Slytherin House without my express permission! Ten points from Gryffindor for upsetting Mr. Malfoy! Two weeks of detentions for being out past curfew!

You think that rules don’t apply to you, but they most assuredly do! Don’t think I’m ignorant of your part in all this, Potter! Zabini and Nott refuse to speak about it, but I can feel your hand in that as well! Draco won’t discuss the details of his collapse, but I’m well aware that you had a part in that, too! Everywhere I turn, I find your fingerprints on some sort of chaos that winds up requiring my involvement! Your little ‘reign of terror’ is over as of now!”

Harry had endured just about enough for any week, much less one morning. He hadn’t dared vent his frustration on Draco, who was in no condition to deal with Harry’s anger, but Snape was fair game.

“I don’t even know why they let you teach! I’m the least of your problems! When your so-called charges aren’t planning murders for the Dark Lord, they’re busy tearing apart every one else within reach! If you actually bothered to run that house, you would’ve noticed that a fucking sick bastard like Flint was molesting the other children you’re supposed to be looking after! If it were up to me, I’d have had your ass fired and run out of Hogwarts while the students threw rocks at you!”

Snape was crimson, eyes bloodshot with rage, and his wand was in his hand before Harry even saw it coming.

“LEGILIMENS!”

Harry tried to fight it off, but Snape was still the better at Occlumency and Legilimency. Fueled by rage, Harry couldn’t keep him from peeling through his memories, sifting for the truth behind Harry’s outrage. He could feel the searing, angry presence in his skull, rudely shoving non-essential or irrelevant memories aside, and lingering hotly on the ones that mattered.

Snape finally let go, and Harry collapsed to the floor, head pounding in agony while he tried to keep himself from throwing up his recent breakfast. Snape himself was seated again, scowling furiously, looking contemplative, albeit disturbed, and he remained silent while Harry collected himself.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, glaring at the man at the desk, chin pointed defiantly, knowing that Snape had seen the truth, and couldn’t bend all of it to fit his mood. Harry’s eyes accused him, even while he bit his tongue and waited for Snape to speak.

Snape never looked up from the paperwork on the desk, and his voice was level, if somewhat bitter.

“Mr. Potter. Fifty points to Gryffindor for preventing the assassination of another student, and for ensuring for his future safety…creatively. Your detentions will be considered served. The ten remaining points will stay, for speaking inappropriately to a member of Hogwarts staff, and for being where you have no business, in defiance of school and house rules. That is all. Now go where you belong…for once!”

Harry turned on his heel and headed for the door, face flaming with indignation at having been Legilimized, but satisfied that Snape had been forced to admit himself wrong. He was interrupted just before he turned the handle.

“Potter. Had I been made aware of what transpired with Mr. Flint…and it is I who was remiss for not having caught it then…what you committed upon the persons of Zabini and Nott, would have looked like a schoolyard squabble before I was finished. I shall deal with the matter henceforth. I shall also see to Draco’s well being. There is nothing more you can do at this point. I ask you to leave him to me until, and if, he wishes to contact you. You are dismissed.”

Harry bit back the urge to retort hotly, and simply stepped out the door and left. It might be a long time before the knots in Draco’s head were unraveled, but whatever it had cost, he had started the process of healing that Draco needed. Now he just had to live with the consequences, and that hurt more than he could have imagined.

TBC!!!


	10. The Heat That Warmed A Frozen Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has spent months apart from Harry, and finally seeks him out for a long overdue conversation about the past...and the future.

The Heat That Warmed A Frozen Heart...by Samayel

 

Harry’s final year at Hogwarts hurried along, not because it was uncomplicated or pleasant, but because his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of Draco. As their NEWT exams drew ever closer, Harry realized how much time had passed since his last words with Draco.

Soon, he would leave the relative safety of Hogwarts, and spend his time with the Order at Grimmaud Place plotting the next steps in the war against Voldemort. There, he might be able to escape the occasional sight of Draco, but he could never escape the memories.

It hadn’t been easy, these past months, ignoring what had existed between them, and it had taken its toll on Harry. Especially since small reminders cropped up now and again.

As near as Harry could work out, Snape had been working privately with Draco, and had arranged visits by a special ’tutor’, ostensibly for higher level training than most students could handle, but Harry knew otherwise. No one else seemed likely to guess it, but Harry would have bet his life that Draco’s tutor had come from St. Mungo’s.

There had been a tiny blurb in the Prophet a few weeks after his conversation with Snape, and it caught Harry’s eye immediately. Apparently, Marcus Flint had been picked up Aurors, and promptly sentenced to Azkaban. The charges were left unspecified, with the vague title of ‘crimes against the wizarding world’. Nonetheless, Harry had discreetly held that issue of the Prophet up as Snape walked by, and gave the professor a grim nod of approval. Snape said nothing, but gave a barely perceptible nod in return, and continued on his way.

A month later, a small obituary was posted in the Prophet for Marcus Flint, who had died in a most gruesome manner while in Azkaban. Though no explanation was ever found, the only clue was an empty vial that had once held a particularly virulent poison. Another grim nod was exchanged between Harry and Snape, and the matter was never referred to again.

Draco had returned to classes just a few days after his final meeting with Harry. He had been paler than his norm, skinnier than was healthy, and he was often shaky and confused. Periodically, he would excuse himself without explanation, and reappear when he was feeling better, but as the weeks passed, his health, color, and normal moods returned.

He still wouldn’t speak to, or contact, Harry. At first he had looked at Harry from across halls or classrooms, gray eyes ablaze with outrage and contempt. That had been the hardest time for Harry. He had wanted so desperately to throw himself at Draco’s feet and beg forgiveness, if it would just mean being able to speak civilly to one another again.

It hurt terribly, being left entirely out of the loop during Draco’s recovery, but Harry bore up as stoically as he could. No one but Ron and Hermione even knew about his difficulty sleeping, and even they didn’t know why he always woke with reddened eyes. Draco eventually stopped glaring at him hatefully, and seemed little more than irritated when forced by circumstance to be near Harry, and that was about as good as it got for a couple months.

Toward the last month, Draco had ceased even that, and simply ignored Harry as best he could, and somehow that stung in a way that his silent scorn hadn’t. At least when Harry had been a source of emotion, he’d felt like he had some kind of impact on the blond boy, but now he was beneath notice, and it left him empty and cold inside.

A few weeks left at Hogwarts, and all this would be left behind. Harry had given up using the baths. Too many unpleasant memories associated with them now, not to mention the horrifying possibility of awkward contact with Draco, who still occasionally went there alone. 

The Marauder’s Map still gave Harry a window of insight, and he knew that Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott all took turns keeping near Draco at different times. If someone were to plan a second attack on Draco, it would have to be far more cautious than the last. Thankfully, no attack had come, and with the school year nearing its end, Harry was certain that Voldemort was planning to start the war in earnest, as soon as Harry was an adult and lost the blood protection that once guarded him. At least he could be some help to Draco, even if it was only by being a high priority target that drew fire away from others.

Seeing Draco’s dot alone in the baths was the hardest thing of all, and it was the nights that he saw this on the map that left Harry crying into his pillow in a Silenced bed. Draco had not dated anyone, and the rumor mill had treated that knowledge callously, throwing around words like impotence on a regular basis. Harry knew better, but there was nothing he could say to stem the tide of rumors. Draco’s problems were his own, and Harry had no intention of barging in again and complicating things further.

Wanking had lost its charm, now that it was leaving Harry miserable and ashamed of thinking about anyone other than Draco, and thinking of Draco simply ruined the exercise completely. Harry’s sex drive, once rampant with desire for a lover’s touch, had simply shriveled and disappeared, save for occasional brief, uncomfortable reminders at odd times, and even those were dealt with distastefully.

Harry sat down for breakfast one morning, with no enthusiasm at all, since the last time he’d enjoyed breakfast had ended in tragedy. Now his meals seemed bland, and only the need to fuel his body kept him going to the table each morning. Owls delivered their parcels to the student body as usual, and this morning, Harry received a letter, which was passing strange, since, with the death of Sirius, and Remus’ duties for the Order, no one had written Harry in months.

It was a nondescript little thing, but the wax seal was elegant and tasteful, and the penmanship on his name was skillful. Upon opening it, Harry felt his heart leap. The brief message within could only have come from one person, and it was worded with great politeness…a compliment in itself when he thought about it.

‘To Harry Potter,

The pleasure of your company is requested, in the Owlery, at seven pm sharp. There are matters which should be discussed, and your presence would be most welcome. 

D.’

There was an oblique reference to his request months ago that Draco address his usual peremptory commands as polite requests. This note felt like Draco had taken that to heart. Harry grabbed his silverware and started eating, only to realize, two plates later, that the food tasted uncommonly good today.

Harry was at the Owlery that night, at five minutes to seven. It meant skipping a study session with Ron and Hermione, but his attention span had been spoiled completely, and there was no hope of learning anything until he had this meeting out of the way.

At the far end of the gallery, a single slim form stood in shadows, staring vaguely out of a window. Harry crossed the gallery noisily, letting his footfalls announce his presence. The shadow turned, and Draco’s face came into view, his inscrutable mask in place as it always was these days.

“Harry.” Draco inclined his head in greeting.

“Draco. I was glad to get your invitation.” Harry smiled, and suddenly wanted to kick himself for acting so puppyish. If he’d had a fucking tail it would have been wagging like crazy. How pathetic. Nonetheless, he was here, and so was Draco, and there was no scowl involved…so it had to be good, didn’t it?

Draco turned back to the window, looking out at the dimming sky. He took a deep breath, and started to speak at last...hesitance and tension in every word.

“Harry. I’m glad you came, too. I’ve…I’m a lot better these days, and there are some things we need to talk about. I know I haven’t the right, but I’d like to ask for some conditions while I talk. Would you at least listen to them, then tell me if you’re willing to accept them?”

Harry could see the muscle along Draco’s neck sharply defined, rigid and stark in the shadows. Whatever Draco was asking for, this conversation wasn’t easy for him, so Harry relented, at least tentatively. 

“Yeah…anything you want. I’m just happy to see you again. You look great, and if you want something…ask…it’s yours if I can do it.”

“That’s…that’s generous of you, Harry. I…my therapist says…I have issues with control…and intimacy, and a few other things, but that isn’t here or there. I’m asking if you’d be willing to excuse my not being able to look at you while I talk. It’s easier for me that way. I can say things without losing control that way, but if I look at you, I’ll lose it and I won’t get things out that need saying. Would you be okay with that?”

Harry reeled under the knowledge that Draco had admitted seeing a therapist. Admitting a need for help was not generally built into the Malfoy character, and doing so was a step in the right direction as far as Harry was concerned.

“Tell you what. I’ll sit right here by the pillar. You can talk about anything you want, and I’ll just listen…unless you ask a question or something. Okay?”

He tried to keep the puppy dog eagerness from his voice, but he could see the ghost of Draco’s smirk in the half light from the window. Harry made himself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could be on the cool, hard stones of the castle floor.

“Thank you. I’ve got a lot to cover, so this might take awhile. Forgive me if I ramble, but it’s easier to drift than it is to focus. Just trust that I’ll get to my point eventually.

I was very cross with you…for months. You deserve to know why. Harry…I didn’t want to talk about certain parts of my life. I felt that they were mine and mine only, and that I had the right to keep them to myself. I still have that right…but I know that, sometimes, I’ve hurt people by letting my past dictate my present. You’re one of them. I see a lot of things…clearer than I used to. Other things have been explained for me, and they make sense in a way they never did. You were right to make me get help. 

I hated you for it. I hated that I was going to have my innermost thoughts picked apart by someone, and I hated that I had no choice, because I had a debt to pay, and you set the terms. I don’t want people’s fucking sympathy, and I don’t want their pity, either. Not even yours, Harry. Even if I do something wrong, my choices are mine, and I hate being second guessed because of some asshole from my past.

Now I know that you did right by me, in a way that a lot of other people never would have. I appreciate it enormously. There are no fucking words for it, Harry. You saved my life, literally, and then, when most would have named a price that guaranteed their own wishes, you saved me from myself. Where…”

Draco broke down for a moment, voice constricted while his breath came short, and Harry fought the urge to go to him. Draco straightened and took a deep breath.

“Wait…I…I’m okay. Where the hell do you come from, Harry? How does anyone do anything that good? I’d call it Gryffindor, but even they’re not like you. I…I don’t think I believe in love. The word usually makes me sick. People throw it around all the time, but they don’t mean it. Just fawning prattle from idiots that think raging hormones are the same thing as a destiny written in the stars. That you could do something…like that…for me. It makes me think things like…maybe, maybe I’ve been wrong. I wasn’t lying when I said there’s no one like you, Harry.”

Harry sat in silence, just watching the tension in Draco’s back while the words poured out. His throat felt thick, and his eyes were burning, and it took twisting his face into a smile to keep himself from crying. Draco had come a long way, if he could even say things like this.

“I think you deserve to hear the rest, Harry. You guessed some of it, but there are things I don’t think you could understand. Fuck all, I didn’t understand them until recently. It took weeks just to get it all out and look at it from a distance, and my therapist told me a lot of things about the way I treated you, and how it related to Flint. 

The year I joined the Quidditch team. Flint was the star of Slytherin House, and he was already well established as the most popular and influential person in our house. I admit that I wanted his attention. I was only just beginning to figure out that I liked boys as much as girls, and at that moment, he was my idol. He didn’t do anything except let me tag along to parties with older students, and he flattered me without even trying. I was so fucking pathetically happy to be near him, to be included with the older crowd, that it never occurred to me that something was wrong about someone who was seventeen spending that much time with a kid five years younger.

You got one major part wrong about Flint. There’s a reason Snape never caught him. He never attacked anybody. He made you want it. He knew he was Slytherin’s hero, and he used that to get whatever he wanted, and he knew how to make you think that you were the one getting what you wanted. I wanted him long before he even touched me.

I was such an ignorant little shit. I’d just figured out how to get off, and as soon as it became a regular thing, I was thinking of him. I talked a good game, but I had no idea what I was doing. By the end of that year, I’d been bragging to him about it…kind of half hoping he’d let things slip and fill in the blanks in my knowledge. It wound up being a lot more than that, but not as much as you might think. I left for the summer, wanked myself raw thinking about him for a couple months, and came back so desperate to see him that I wouldn’t have cared if he did attack me.

Third year was when everything really happened. It was his last year at Hogwarts, and I think he pulled out all the stops. He’d done everything, with everyone he’d wanted, for a long time before I became an issue, so I guess he was looking for a new thrill. I was it.

I suppose he made me a personal project. He spent a lot of time letting me get closer and closer, fooling around, with just a few rules, before he went further. By the time he wanted more from me, I was almost frantic to give it. I…I thought I was in love. I flattered myself to think that he had an interest in me beyond getting off as much as possible, and I was just too young and too stupid to know the difference.

Harry…the way I treated you…it wasn’t that different from the way he treated me. He was…a little colder…a little rougher, but he kept me believing that there was something more, something better, just beneath the surface. I gave him everything he wanted…and I mean everything. I liked it then, giving in to him, doing whatever he wanted. It felt wicked, wrong in all the good ways, and he always made sure I enjoyed it. Even when it hurt, it was like it was something I craved, and that made it alright.

I was a perfect whore for him. I had no inhibitions left, no taboos, and no shame. Then I started trying tell him about how much I loved him, even though the subject was supposed to be off limits. He slapped me so hard it felt like my head exploded, and just shoved me out of his bed and told me to go find the Hufflepuff dorm. He didn’t talk to me for days after that. I cried until I couldn’t see straight, then went back and groveled at his feet, promising that I’d do anything he wanted if he’d just pretend I’d never said those things.

He let it pass, but he was a lot rougher than before. I think that was his way of amusing himself with someone who bored him. He just tested the boundaries of what I could, or would, take from him. It stopped being anything even remotely like fun, but I kept going back because it was him.

Naturally, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut forever. We got close to the end of the year, and I knew he’d be leaving. I got panicky, desperate, and I started hinting at seeing him outside of school or on holidays. The kind of things a boyfriend would want. He hit me again, and then a few more times because I was crying, and then he left. He wouldn’t have anything to do with me for the rest of the year.

That’s when he started with a few of the others. The irony was that, as fucking horrible to me as he was, half of Slytherin was jealous of the amount of time he’d spent with me, even if they didn’t know the details. They practically lined up to be used by him, but he never went so far with any of them. I half think he played around with the others just to make sure that I’d see him with other people, and suffer appropriately. We’d never even kissed. I watched him snog other people in public for the last few weeks of school, and I really think he just did it to rub salt in my wounds.

The year ended, I went home, sulked in my room all summer, and came back to school. I spent the whole year getting over it, and even took up snogging a few people just to get comfortable with it. At that point, it was bloody nearly the only thing I hadn’t done! Doesn’t the irony just kill you? I got my first proper snog almost a year after I’d thoroughly whored myself out to my team Captain. I was just dead inside. It felt like I was going through the motions, but it didn’t count for anything. I never bothered with it after that.

Fourth year was pretty much a wash. Tri-Wizard Tournament came to town, and I spent most of my time thinking up new ways to drive you and Weasley crazy. It was easier than thinking about the previous year, and you have to admit, Weasley’s great fun to take shots at. The big prat takes everything right to heart. He should really just paint a target on himself!”

Draco’s voice had gotten hoarse, and he paused with a cough, then drew a familiar vial from his coat. A swallow of Soothing Potion, and he was staring at the darkening sky and talking again.

“Sorry. Just tense. I’m still on the potion, but only before sleep or when I’m talking about certain things. The rest of the time I do pretty well.

I’d almost gotten over it by the end of the year. It’s funny how the daily grind of life just wears away at you until things that hurt seem less painful. I’d missed him, some ways, especially at night. I wanted to be touched, I wanted to give myself to someone again, but I hadn’t pieced together who just yet. I left for summer, and a few weeks later, my father took me to a Dark revel. It changed everything.

The Dark Lord spoke, and I fell beside my father, on my knees, groveling like a slave. Parseltongue made us utterly compliant, but in the back of my mind, some rational part was left, just trapped and watching from a distance, horrified by what it saw…what I saw.

When it was over, and my father took me home, I made up my mind to never be like that again. I swore I’d never submit to anyone, never let anyone control me, never let emotions or sentiment suck me into a situation where I could be manipulated. I went back to school, and I learned to make others do what I wanted, not by force, but by guile. They did what I wanted, because they wanted to, because they wanted me, but they never even got close.

Then came you. I saw your image reflected in the mirror on the far wall of the baths. I saw the look on your face while you stared at me. I liked it. I could tell I had power over you, and I knew I could have even more. The irony was delicious, too. Gryffindor’s gorgeous Golden Boy, panting after my cock…who could resist that? 

You were so beautiful, so naïve, and so eager to please. You were like me…then…with him. I knew just what to say, and just what to do. You were so responsive, too. It was like you knew what I’d enjoy most, sometimes even before I asked for it. I didn’t like the way I thought about you, and I made sure you didn’t see or hear any thing that would show how I felt. I didn’t let you know about the dreams I had, or about the things I felt ashamed of for even wanting. 

I tried. I tried so hard to be like him, to not get close, to not let you matter. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even hurt you like he would have. I wanted to please you, make you come back again, make you want me enough to never stop coming back. I wanted to keep it simple, but I couldn’t even get that right. I couldn’t push you away, so I stiffened up and talked down to you. It was all a fucking bluff. I couldn’t have stopped coming to see you, even if I’d tried. I guess, when it came right down to it, you were stronger than I ever was.

I hated that more than anything else. The way you got under my skin. The way I wanted you when you weren’t there. Most of all…I hated that I wanted you the way I only ever wanted Flint before. I can’t think of anything in the last few years that made me want to…to…surrender myself that way. If I’d been stronger, I’d never have spoken to you after you broke it off between us. He would never have been pulled back in that way, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

Draco turned from the window, and seated himself on the stone floor across from Harry, keeping himself looking away from Harry’s eyes.

“When you stopped the snake, I lost it completely, I’d missed you, and I wanted you back, but I’d been too proud to go crawling to you. I fell apart when I heard Parseltongue again…this time from you. I lost the will to resist anything, even the ability to speak coherently. It felt like I was on fire, and only you could make it stop. The part of my mind that was still my own was screaming the entire time. Everything I’d pushed aside came back to me, like it had happened just days ago instead of years. Then you…you…I guess you lost control for a minute. Too much power can do that…my family ought to know.

The part I couldn’t tell you, the part I didn’t want to think about, was how badly I wanted you to just take me, use me as you pleased, even if you threw me away when you were done. As soon as it wore off, I wanted to crawl away and die. Those were things that I wasn’t supposed to feel anymore, and being helpless isn’t something I handle gracefully, but you probably already knew that part.

It comes down to this. We leave here in a few weeks. I’m not really well yet, not in the ways that really count, but I don’t…I don’t want to leave here, and not see you again. I could do better, if you let me, but there are a lot of things I can’t handle. I know what you deserve, and the truth is that I can’t give all of it to you. I just can’t. Even when I wasn’t sure how I felt, I never wanted to hurt you, and it still happened. I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, but…I’m trying as hard as I can…and if I could meet you halfway, I’d ask you to start all over with me, and not like before. Not secret, not sex, just, you know, seeing each other like normal people do. Even if all I can do is promise to try, would you come to see me, or let me see you, after we leave here?”

He finally looked Harry in the eyes, scudding clouds of ice boring into bright pools of emerald green, searching for some sign of approval, something to offer the hope of a better tomorrow.

Draco found just that. Harry smiled, eyes burning, trying very hard to keep his calm and spare Draco’s already jangled nerves. He nodded his approval, rewarded with the huff of relief that slid from Draco when he listened to Harry’s answer.

“Yeah, I’d like that very much. I’ve missed you, too, you know? I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again, but at least you looked like you were getting better. We can go as slow as you want. I’d be happier talking to you like this than anything else could ever make me.”

Draco relaxed completely, almost visibly giddy with the loss of the tension that had been eating at him.

“I’d like to ask for something else. My therapist has been insisting on giving me ‘homework’. Things I’m supposed to work on whenever I can. I’d like it if…like it very much if you’d sit here with me. I want to hold you…right now, just for awhile. Never really done much of that before, except…after…you know. I’d like to start getting comfortable with that first, and there isn’t anyone else I want to hold.”

Harry scooted across the short distance, and turned himself around so that he could lie comfortably in Draco’s arms. It was strange, being embraced with his clothes on for once, but oddly more fulfilling than he’d imagined. Draco was a bit stiff, and he felt like he was trembling at first, but after a few minutes of close warmth, he settled comfortably behind Harry and laid his chin on Harry’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.

“Thank you. This is good. I like this.” Draco’s breath puffed softly onto Harry’s neck, and Harry made himself perfectly at ease before he spoke.

“I’ll be busy right after I leave here, and if the war breaks out, I may not be able to see you when I want. There are ways for you to visit me, but there’s a price that isn’t really up to me. You’d have to declare allegiance to our side. There would be binding oaths. It’s the only way you could safely come and go from where I’ll be. I’d never ask it of you if I had a choice, but I want you to come and see me. I can’t even say how much. Please think about it?”

Draco didn’t remain silent for long. “I’ll do whatever I have to. If that’s what it takes, so be it. I’m not throwing myself if front of any approaching armies like a Gryffindor, but if it’s the only way to see you, I’ll swear oaths ‘til I’m blue in the face,”

In an unconscious gesture, Harry reached for the hand that was just beneath his arm, snug around his middle, and clasped his fingers through Draco’s. Draco felt stiff for a moment, and Harry cursed himself for forgetting how different from other people Draco was, but the hand clasped in his own didn’t pull away.

The sun died its daily, glorious death, and the shadows played across the far wall of the Owlery until, some time later, darkness overwhelmed, and two boys lounged in silent comfort, the only sounds in the room the soft clicks of claws and beaks and the flutter of wings.

 

TBC!!! (The next episode will be the final one!)


	11. The Heat That Lingered Long And Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry looks back at more than a year of his time with Draco. ELEVENTH AND FINAL installment of the Heat Series.

The Heat That Lingered Long And Well…by Samayel

 

Harry sat by the fire in Grimmauld Place, curled around Draco, lounging comfortably, and reflected on the months that had passed since their ‘reunion’ at Hogwarts.

\----------------------------------------------------

To say that their emergence into Hogwarts’ society as a couple ‘caused a stir’ would have been an understatement of epic proportions, rather like saying that ‘the return of the Dark Lord caused slight anxiety’ for the wizarding world.

The whole school, including the staff, had stared at the two of them constantly, with the unspoken communal question, ’What the fuck?!’, practically on the tip of their collective tongues. It was terribly annoying, especially since Draco was trying very hard to get comfortable with acts of affection, public or otherwise. Having a school full of children gawking at him when his hand reached for Harry’s didn’t make it easier.

Ron, quite predictably, blew his top and couldn’t even bring the subject up without starting an argument. Several weeks of sulking and griping ensued, until a final blow out occurred, when Draco spent the evening in the Gryffindor common room, snogging Harry on the couch.

They’d studied together, and the rest of the room dealt passing well with that, but no one was particularly comfortable with the kiss that lingered before Draco left to make his rounds at curfew. Just before he’d let got of Harry’s hand, he’d looked warmly at Harry, and uttered the words, ‘Stupid Gryffindor’, in front of everyone. Harry just grinned like an idiot when he heard it, and wished Draco a good night. As soon as Draco was out the door, Ron exploded monumentally.

“FUCKING HELL, HARRY! How can you let him say that shit to you? He’s always calling you ‘stupid Gryffindor’! You let that Slytherin shit walk all over you, fucking insulting you in your own house, in front of us! What the hell is wrong with you! No one cares if you’re a poof, but for fucksake have some pride!”

Things slid downhill from there, almost coming to blows before Harry finally cracked and revealed one of his and Draco’s lesser secrets.

“Fine! You wanna know why he calls me that all the time? Not that it’s any fucking business of yours, but it’s a fucking codeword!”

“A what?” Ron screwed his face up in confusion.

“I TOLD him to call me that! He hates saying certain things in front of other people. I told him that, if he wanted to say he loves me, he could keep it private by calling me ‘Stupid Gryffindor’ when there are people around!”

“You…mean…all those times he called you that…at lunch…in the hallways…here…he was really saying…”

“YES! Now, thanks to you, I have to change the codeword! And I liked that one! Right now my vote is for FUCKING WEASLEY, but you’d better hope I’m over this by tomorrow!”

That episode had ended in Ron slinking off, vaguely confused, and keeping to himself for a few days, which had been fine by Harry, who really wasn’t feeling very forgiving at the moment. Perhaps he was a little overprotective of Draco, but he was the only person in Hogwarts, aside from Snape, who knew the things that made Draco tick, and he jealously guarded the knowledge that had been entrusted to him.

The truth was that Draco hadn’t uttered the words ‘I love you’ since he was thirteen years old, and though he’d come along well with his therapy, those words simply meant too much for him to let them slip from his tongue casually. It stung, that these little things were an issue, but at least now Draco showed his affection in many little ways, and that was enough for Harry, who knew beyond doubt what Draco was trying to express through them. 

Eventually, Ron just started talking to him like nothing ever happened, and he religiously avoided the topic of Draco Malfoy, which was fine by Harry. Hermione hadn’t been half so difficult. She’d scrutinized them both intensely, for weeks, and Harry was fairly sure that she’d cast some spells on them while they weren’t watching. It was a safe bet that she only broke down and gave her approval after making sure that no magical coercion was involved in Harry’s inexplicable decision to start dating Draco. That settled that, and NEWTS finally came, taking everyone’s mind off of Harry and Draco, much to their relief.

Draco hadn’t had nearly so bad a time of it in Slytherin, although the gossip shifted from calling him impotent to calling him insane. Crabbe and Goyle were in his back pocket, and Zabini and Nott were in Harry’s, and with the entire contingent of seventh year Slytherin boys firmly on his side, no one dared to utter so much as a harsh word about his occasionally bringing Harry into the Slytherin common room for study time.

Except Snape.

Severus Snape may not have approved of their newly reborn relationship, but Draco claimed his desire for Harry’s company was central to his recovery, and he couldn’t do the ‘homework’ his therapist assigned without Harry present. Snape relented, but couldn’t help glowering when he entered the common room and found them in mid-snog on the couch. To his way of thinking, no one should get that much pleasure from any sort of ‘homework’.

“Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter! If I see either of your hands below your waists again…I promise you I will hex them off! You may have been handed an excuse to ’spoon’ in my common room, but I recall nothing…NOTHING…about your ‘homework’ requiring the use of tongues!”

He also found their occasional giggles and laughter annoying in the extreme. 

Draco’s kisses were like for food for the soul, and Harry feasted as often as he could. Soft, dry kisses where lips simply brushed up against each other, drifting across flushed and silken cheeks, or savage, wet, deep kisses, tongues wrestling each other, invading, exploring one another while their heads spun and their groins ached.

They explored every aspect of intimacy, save for the kind they had known first. For all that anyone at Hogwarts knew, they were a perfectly normal couple, holding hands, snogging as often as they could, and cuddling whenever they got the chance. None of their friends could have guessed the debauched nature of their beginning, but most grew to envy what had grown between them since.

The most difficult part to date was getting Draco comfortable with being held. It took more than a few tries before he could trust himself not to tremble so violently that other people would notice, but given enough time, he would eventually relax into a drowsy lassitude that left Harry ecstatic, and Draco as cheerful as if they’d just shagged.

NEWTS came and went, and Hogwarts celebrated in grand style. In the heady atmosphere of graduation, Draco and Harry were relegated to the background of other’s minds, which was a source of great relief to the both of them. Everyone else was suddenly concerned with their own dates, and this left them a certain freedom they hadn’t had in weeks.

That last night at Hogwarts had been perfect, given the times that came after, and it hadn’t been wasted. They left the Leaving Ball early, and slipped up to Gryffindor tower long ahead of any other revelers. Almost half a year had passed since either had seen the other naked, and those final occasions had been tinged with dark memories. They’d made their minds up to leave behind a final memory of their time at Hogwarts that would linger joyfully in both their minds forever.

They peeled away each other’s clothes with care, lavishing as much attention as possible on each others lips, while coats and trousers slid to the floor in an ungainly pile. So much time apart made simple things such as hands caressing each other a brilliant thing, and they fought the urge to frantically rut to completion, as they once had done, with everything they had.

It was so very different from anything Harry remembered. The dispassionate elegance and cruel precision were gone from Draco, and in their place was a hungry, needy lover who wasn’t ashamed of his desire for closeness. 

When Draco’s mouth finally made it below the curve of his hip, Harry was hovering on the edge of loudly pleading, and only the sudden warmth and suction that enveloped his cock rendered him silent, save for soft moans of need. There was no teasing here, no artful and clever torment that offered satiation then stole away from it. This time, Draco sucked devotedly, small wet noises of hunger drifting up, while he brought Harry to a swift and complete end as quickly as possible.

Harry erupted into Draco’s mouth, and Draco only pulled him further in, drinking every drop of seed that he could pull from Harry, rhythmic sounds of pleasure a perfect counterpoint to Harry’s near shouts of satisfaction. Harry’s collapse was short lived, and his vision cleared just long enough to witness a tousled blond head diving between his thighs. Then Draco’s devil tongue and fingers were at play, and rational thought left him again.

Harry’s cock was twitching back to life, albeit sluggishly, before Draco’s ministrations were complete, and a mutual hunger to be joined as quickly as possible made foreplay of any kind a matter of minutes. Then Draco was kneeling before him, slick with the long unused lubricant he’d purchased for them so long ago, and Harry poised himself for entrance.

When he’d been getting shagged on a daily basis, it had become easy enough to open himself for entry, but a half a year without so much as a stray finger down there had made him almost virginal again, and despite the faint discomfort, it was a sensation he savored.

Draco was sliding his way inward, slow and certain, with little pauses that let Harry breath easy and steel himself for more. When the soft blond scruff of Draco’s pubic hair was snug and close against him, and soft, heavy balls were at rest against his bum, Harry sighed with relief, and let himself relax completely, experimenting with the much missed feel of Draco’s cock buried deep inside of him.

Harry felt the insistent throb of Draco’s member inside him, and understood Draco’s hesitance…his boyfriend was hanging on the precipice of orgasm already, and fighting it as best he could. Too much motion on either of their parts, and it would all be over before it started. Harry sunk comfortably into the sheets, placing his ankles on Draco’s shoulders, and sighed with contentment, perfectly at peace with the idea of dragging this out as long as possible.

Draco steadied himself, and finally, still pressed close and tight against Harry, ground gently into his lover, scarcely even withdrawing after each moment of pressure. Once he was sure he could move without promptly coming, he slid back, nearly out of Harry, eliciting a whimper of hunger that quickly shifted to a moan of pleasure when he slid back in again. It took time and patience to work his way just to a pace far slower than ever they’d used before, but the sight of Harry’s green eyes fairly sparkling with adoration and desire was more than Draco could easily cope with and restrain himself. 

Harry had waited for this moment patiently, never pushing Draco for more than he felt ready to give, and both their libidos had been restrained for months, a state completely unnatural for seventeen year old boys. Even though Harry relaxed completely, utterly receptive, allowing Draco total control, the pleasure of being united again quickly reached a peak that they couldn’t withstand.

Past encounters had been dominated by pure lust, or tainted ever so subtly by the implication of submission on Harry’s part, or even marred by the mutual knowledge that their ’relationship’ had been built upon the denial that either genuinely cared for the other. No longer. Every cruel illusion that once haunted them had collapsed since then, and the distance between them had slowly diminished until there was precious little that could have brought them closer to each other than they already were.

Harry had one leisurely hand stroking Draco’s slowly flexing chest, and another twined in the silky blond locks he often silently prized. For the first time since the year had started, and they’d entered into the world of the sensual, Draco was staring intently into Harry’s eyes while they made love.

‘I can call it that…now. We’re making love. We did so much, but never this. This is the best day of my life. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to make him understand. This isn’t surrender, or submission…this is victory.’

Then there was no time for thought, because Draco had increased his pace yet again, and this time he pushed deep and hard upon the savagely hungry place inside Harry that exploded each time it was touched. A starry night slid across Harry’s flickering vision, and he wasn’t sure of time or thought…or anything else for that matter. Just sharp, potent waves of pleasure that carried him aloft, while gentle hands, that caressed his cheek and stroked the hair from his eyes, kept him grounded occasionally in the real. Gray eyes bored into green, and Harry was joyfully aware of the soft intensity of Draco’s gaze.

There was reverence there, an honest and open adoration that Harry had waited a lifetime to see in someone’s eyes. Connected like a live wire, feeling desired and loved as never before, Harry melted into orgasm, shuddering and crying out as his seed spilled between the two of them, slicking his chest and stomach with heavy dots of white that quickly cooled. Draco’s pace scarcely slowed throughout, and Harry writhed and gasped beneath him, overwhelmed by the continuing sensations Draco pushed himself to inspire, even as Harry rode out his orgasm until its completion.

Draco paused, still not replete, and kissed Harry as deeply and softly as he could, while still bound together as they were. Harry let himself flow into that kiss, eager to drown himself an ocean of happiness he’d never felt or even imagined, until Draco parted from him with a whisper so faint it couldn’t have been heard from more than a few inches away.

“I…only you, Harry…always. Only you.”

That night lingered in more than memory. Hours passed before they slumbered, unaware of anything save each other, curled safe and close in Harry’s bed, sweat slick, disheveled, and heavy with the scent of one another.

They found Ron asleep outside the door in the morning, curled up on a spare blanket from the commons, snoring loudly. When Harry stepped over him to head for the loo, Ron woke with a start, and promptly began to whine.

“Bloody hell, Harry! I got in at two…and you two were still having it off! Don’t tell me you bastards never heard of a Silence spell! I mean, Merlin’s Fucking Beard, mate…SIX HOURS?! What the fuck is wrong with you two? Can’t you do anything normal? If it takes that long to get off, you’re doing something wrong!”

Harry grinned hugely, all flushed cheeks and giddy cheer. “Beg to differ, Ron. You’d take that much time, too…if you got off five times…and each one was better than the one before it. Take my word for it, mate…we’re doing it right.” 

Harry waggled his eyebrows at Ron, who looked like he was suffering an information overdose, and whistled all the way to the bathroom. Ron was still sitting in the hall, dazed and stunned, when Draco stepped out with a yawn, surprisingly un-self conscious about the state of his hair, and wearing nothing but a towel.

“Oy, Malfoy!”

“Mmm? What?”

“Uhhh…about the whole six hours shagging thing…if you ever teach a class on that…I’m the first one signing up.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Their last year at Hogwarts came to its close, and that was the end of happy memories for a time. The war did break out almost immediately after the closing of Hogwarts, and attacks began on Muggle and wizarding targets alike.

Draco swore a Binding Oath to the Order of the Phoenix, and visited Grimmauld Place as often as he could. His mother, Narcissa, reacted poorly to the news of his relationship with Harry, and promptly fled England for a shopping trip abroad, praying that the madness that had infected her son would be over by the time she got back. This was fine by Draco, who felt no further reason to remain at the manor once his mother was safely out of town, and he wasted no time at making himself as comfortable as possible in Harry’s room at Grimmauld Place.

Attacks were reported weekly, and eventually daily, as the violence escalated, but the Order kept a tight leash on Harry’s movements, sure that the bloodthirsty nature of the attacks was intended to draw Harry out. Now that the blood-protection that once guarded him was gone, it was possible that Voldemort was trying, in his less than subtle way, to lure Harry into the open, hoping for an ambush.

Meanwhile, civilians were dying by the score, Aurors and Order members alike were getting hurt and sometimes killed, and all Harry could do was stalk the halls of Grimmauld Place, frustrated nearly to tears. His only solace during that time had been Draco, who rarely left his side for more than a day. At least their nights had been grand. If Harry had wanted for anything, it certainly wasn’t sex or love. The two of them grew closer still, and Draco discreetly saw his counselor less and less as the months passed.

This was not to say that he had no issues left. Although communication had become easier for him, and showing intimacy and affection were almost second nature, it was still hard for him to surrender control…sexually. He could let Harry touch him in places he’d never allowed before, and this offered up a few new pleasures they both enjoyed thoroughly, but when he tried, with great care, to offer himself up to Harry, he still flinched, grew tense and fretful, and sometimes broke down and wept with frustration.

He was sure of his desire for Harry, and it galled him to come so close to a long-suppressed fantasy and then have it fall from reach so quickly, but try as he might, Draco couldn’t relax when faced with the actual moment of entry, and Harry lost all interest in trying further when he heard the short panic breaths or saw fear and tension in Draco’s face instead of desire. Blessedly, Harry was entirely content in whatever role he took, and as long as it involved Draco, his pleasure was fairly well assured. The failure to accomplish this one thing seemed a small loss, especially when a war was bringing far greater sorrows just outside their doors.

The only bright and cheery spark of news that came, was a solid lead on Voldemort’s lair. An Auror squad was dispatched to scan the area, and was never heard from again. The Order stood convinced that the information was accurate, but suspected that an ambush had been intended for Harry the minute he arrived upon the property, and they reiterated their stance about keeping Harry safe until Voldemort revealed himself. All the while, Harry read reports full of death and suffering, as casualties of his inaction mounted ever higher.

Draco’s mother returned to Malfoy Manor after three months abroad, and Draco, a dutiful, if somewhat rebellious, son, went to see her and make peace, or at least forge a truce between them. He was only supposed to be gone for a day and a night. The next morning, Harry woke alone, and was greeted by grim stares at the breakfast table.

Malfoy Manor had been attacked in the night, no one had yet searched for sign of Draco or Narcissa Malfoy amongst the rubble, but portions of the manor were still ablaze, and the ancient building had been half-razed by Death Eaters, likely to finally settle the score for Draco’s shift of allegiance. The Dark Mark hung in the sky above England once again, and Harry knew it had been another price paid by others for his inaction.

That had been ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’. Harry, sick with grief and blind with rage, ended the war in a single morning. Despite the efforts of his friends to stop him, he walked out of the house, and Apparated directly to the building suspected to be Voldemort’s current lair.

Harry cut through the wards like a hot knife through butter, and faced with an entire property covered in traps, curses and enemies, he neatly sidestepped the entire problem by blasting the entire structure off its foundation. In the end, Harry dragged a wounded Voldemort halfway out of a pile of dusty rubble, and silently caved in his skull with a large and jagged rock that weighed almost twenty kilos.

At that moment, Harry had no fear of death, or of killing, for having lost so much in his life, the warped creature once named Tom Riddle had just taken the one thing left that mattered most to him, and death held only the promise of freedom from the sorrow he knew would come when his rage slid away.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, kneeling on broken stone and cracked wood, spattered with gore and weeping. It could have been minutes or hours for all he knew. Ron and Hermione found him there, amidst the wreckage, and guided him home in silence.

Harry sat abed all afternoon, numb from potions and charms, a creeping ennui stealing over him. The enormity of his loss was only beginning to feel real, and he faintly hoped that some form of insanity would steal his rational mind, tearing away his ability to process what had happened that day. Late that evening, the sharp, yet disaffected tone of a woman of substance cut through the silence in Grimmauld Place. 

“Really, dear! It was the only thing I had at my disposal at the moment. At a time like that, who frets over semantics? I just wanted to get my baby to safety. I certainly didn’t expect such histrionics from you!”

“MOTHER! A one-way Portkey? To Tangiers? We could have at least Apparated to Hogsmeade! There are people there who could have-”

That voice set Harry’s mind on fire with joy, and even dulled by potions, his sense reeled when he heard Draco’s outraged tone.

“Nonsense, Draco! I was certain of our safety, or I would never have taken us there. My friend saw to our needs and here we are. A pity about the manor, but we’re back in England in less than twelve hours. I simply cannot understand why you’re so-”

Harry was already tearing down the staircase, albeit clumsily, doped with potions as he was.

“About your ‘friend’! Just who the hell is Hakim anyway? Don’t tell me you’ve been running around with that turbaned, desert dingbat ever since father was imprisoned? We Portkeyed right into his bloody bedroom!”

“Be mature about these things, Draco! Your father has been away for almost two years…a woman has needs…and Hakim is a perfect gentlem-”

Narcissa’s words tapered off as Harry stumbled into the room and tackled Draco in a clumsy hug, pinning him to the wall and smothering him with tearful kisses. Narcissa watched in silence, hovering on the edge of disapproval, until the pained wince slid from her haughty features. Her only child was clinging tightly to Harry Potter, recently the Saviour of the Wizarding World, whispering mingled praise and assurances to a young man who looked like he had been utterly bereft of hope in Draco’s absence. Stonier hearts than hers had been moved by less.

Ron Weasley walked up beside her, and sighed deeply. “If it’s any comfort, they drive me half scatty, too, when they get like that. Still, it’s love, isn’t it? What can you do?”

Narcissa smiled softly. “Yes, indeed. I believe, my dear young man, that, despite every expectation to the contrary, you and I are in perfect agreement.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Harry stared dreamily into the fire. The two months since the death of Voldemort had passed swiftly. Malfoy Manor was under reconstruction. The wizarding world was still jubilant over their newfound, heady freedom from terror. The Ministry and the Order had been busy rounding up stray Death Eaters. Grimmauld Place was nearly abandoned, leaving Harry and Draco as much time to themselves as they could ask for. It was very nearly a slice of paradise, and Draco’s constant presence had made it that way. It was difficult to imagine a state of affairs better than this.

Draco wriggled pleasantly in Harry’s arms, then yawned and stretched.

“Mmmm…Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking, love. I know…I know I have trouble…well…letting go of control. Maybe not so much as before, but still more trouble than I like. I thought of a way that, just maybe, I’d feel more, you know, relaxed. Care to hear me out?”

“Sure. You know I’m not worried about that. You don’t have to do anything for me. I love this…this life we’ve got here. I love you, and I’m happier than I’ve probably got any right to have expected, but I’m all ears if you want to try something new. Just don’t feel like you have to because of me.”

“Stupid Gryffindor. I’ve been thinking about this for a long while now. I wouldn’t even bring it up if I wasn’t sure. It made me a bit edgy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more comfortable I felt with it. The Dark Lord is gone, my father is a non-issue, Flint is ancient history, and I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known. I know you’d do anything for me, and I know you would never hurt me. Even with all that, I still have a hard time letting go of…things. I just tense up and I can’t stop it. There might be a way to make that go away…at least temporarily.”

Harry’s curiosity was peaked to say the least. In fact, certain other parts of him peaked at just the thought of being inside of Draco, making love to him the way that he’d made love to Harry so often and well, but he’d never admit to Draco how badly he wanted that, mainly because he hated the idea of Draco feeling guilty about something he could scarcely be expected to control.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Parseltongue.”

“Merlin! Are you daft, love? I swore I’d never-”

“Harry! Shut up and listen to me closely! Please?”

Harry fought his racing heart in silence. Just the memory of the event that had triggered Draco’s collapse was more than he was comfortable with. The notion of using Parseltongue on Draco again violated every promise he’d ever made to himself about never exploiting Draco’s weakness for his own personal gain. Draco waited until he was sure of Harry’s silence, and then started again.

“I’m not saying you should go berserk and terrify the ever-loving fuck out of me…I’m saying that, if you just whispered a little, here and there, while we made love, maybe I’d slip into a state of mind where bad memories couldn’t reach me. The other time, I was a lot more afraid of how much I wanted to give in…than I was afraid of anything else. I don’t think I’m scared of you making love to me…hell…it’s practically all I think about. I want you that way, badly, and I think if you’re careful, and if you just say a few things here and there throughout, I wouldn’t be frightened at all, just…well…excited.”

Harry sat in silence. If he rejected this outright, he’d get another lecture about being an overprotective Gryffindor ass (and that was a conversation they’d already had…several times). Draco could be stubborn beyond the patience of mortals when his mind was made up, and Harry could already tell by the tone of Draco’s voice that his mind was made up about this. The best he could hope for was a lack of damage. Draco hadn’t needed a potion in months, and they’d never been closer than they were now. If there was a time to try, then this was it, however nerve-wracking the idea might be.

“If you’re sure you won’t give this idea up, I’ll do it…on one condition…”

“And that is?”

“I’ll stop at some point and let the effect wear off. Then you can tell me if you’re really okay or not. If you slip into trance, how would I know if you were alright or not? This way, you can still stop me if you’re not well…understand?”

“Done deal!” Draco rolled off the couch and slid down onto the rug in front of the fireplace, smirking wickedly and unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you waiting for? Get down here and kiss me!”

Harry stifled a laugh. “Eager much?”

There was nothing feigned in Draco’s answer as he peeled away his clothes.

“Harry. I’ve waited years to feel like this for someone. There are days when it actually hurts me not to be able to do this. I’ve wanted you in every way since that first night in the baths, and I’m not one bit ashamed of it now. I want this…and I want you.”

Draco slid the last of clothes off and made himself comfortable in front of the fire, flickering shadows dancing across his lithe frame. Harry looked at the serious young man that had been his only love for almost a year and half, and knelt beside him, leaning in for a kiss.

It still made his head spin, even more than half a year since their first kiss. Draco’s hands were fumbling with his shirt buttons, even while their lips mingled and their tongues searched hungrily. It was easy, at a moment like this, to forget that there had ever been a cross moment between them.

Draco pushed Harry onto his back and whispered, “Let me.”

Harry let himself be cosseted, while Draco stripped him of his clothes at his leisure, pausing to fire Harry’s anticipation with kisses along his collar, and later, as Draco slid his trousers off, along his hipbone as well. When he’d neatly divested Harry of clothing, Draco climbed astride him, and made himself comfortable atop Harry’s waist, and Harry savored the feel of their erections rubbing close against each other as well as against their flat, hard stomachs.

Harry pulled Draco down, back into another kiss, while they lounged next to the drowsy heat of the fire. Harry was well aware of the vial of lubricant that Draco had discreetly slipped out of his pants pocket and left by the edge of the rug. The wicked little mink had had this planned well in advance of their conversation. Sometimes Draco reminded Harry that he was Slytherin to the core, and things like this were a perfect example of that.

Draco ground himself leisurely against Harry’s groin, head tilted back, hands steady on Harry’s chest, savoring the delicious warmth and thickness of the cock that rubbed indelicately along and through the cleft of his arse, and ever so pleasantly brushed the whorled pink rose of his hole, touching off desires he’d lived without satisfying for years. 

Draco kept flexing his body against the growing stiffness beneath him, pleasantly conscious of the heat of Harry’s skin, and of the gentle hands that slithered down his chest. Harry gazed in awe at the slim form that rode him. His own hand seemed dark against the pale splendor of Draco’s skin, and Draco’s hair hung like a blond mane, elegant even when untidy. So many ways in which they were different, only to come together as one in spite of it all.

Draco’s hand slithered to the phial of lubricant, even while he pitched forward to kiss Harry, grinding his own erection softly against the smooth taught skin of Harry’s stomach. As exciting as the warmth of Draco’s kiss was, the small wet sounds of lubricant being carefully applied were making Harry ache with anticipation. They’d tried so many times, and that sound had come to herald failure, no matter how promising the opportunity seemed.

Then the soft hand coated in slickness lifted and stroked Harry’s straining cock, and it was hard to worry about anything. A skillful hand coated his manhood from base to tip in slippery fluid, exciting Harry nearly to the point of orgasm, then pausing, with Harry’s erection still throbbing, now held almost upright in Draco’s firm hand.

Slim hips rose off of Harry, and Draco closed his eyes while he pressed back against the stiffened length behind him. Poised for entrance, Draco hung just above it, brow wrinkled in concentration while apprehension overtook him.

“Now…speak it to me now, Harry. I need this…please, love.” Draco’s face was unreadable, but his voice was taut and constrained, full of tension and hunger, and Harry relented, watching closely for any sign of discomfort or fear as he spoke.

*You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I never stop aching to be close to you.*

Harry kept his voice just above a sibilant whisper, instead of the outraged thunder it had been before, but the effect was immediate and obvious. Draco’s tense brow loosened, and his eyes opened wide, looking down at Harry with naked adulation. His pupils dilated slightly, though not so drastically as before, and a drowsy lassitude stole over his entire body, relaxing every muscle more thoroughly than anything else ever had.

*You are more precious to me than any other. This life would be empty without you. Don’t ever be afraid of me, my love. I will never hurt you, never push you away, never tire of the sight of you.*

Draco’s lips had curled into a drunken grin and his head lolled back, and Harry quickly felt pressure, warmth and tightness around his cock. Draco slid back with surprising ease, exhaling softly as his body stretched to accommodate Harry’s stone hard erection. Freed of anxiety, drunk on the power inherent in Harry’s voice, Draco allowed the full length of Harry into him without a noise of complaint, and his own cock stood rampant and hard, just above the stomach of his lover.

*Oh gods, is that good. I’ve longed for this, love. I’ve wanted this so very much, Draco. To feel you this way…to please you. I want more than anything to please you, like you have me.*

Harry pulled Draco down into a kiss, his hands cradling Draco’s face gently, and he let that kiss linger, letting the power of whispered Parseltongue slowly fade while Draco lay upon his chest, almost boneless from pleasure. Draco slowly recovered, panting for breath between kisses, and his eyes focused properly less than a minute later. Draco gazed fiercely into Harry’s eyes and rolled the two of them until he was beneath Harry, then he leaned in, bit Harry’s neck and whispered urgently, “More…please don’t stop. I want this…you…now. Pleeeaaaasse.”

Harry felt Draco’s legs slide up and back even higher, knees as close to his chest as they could be while spread so far apart, and he could also feel a soft and strangely clenching tightness around his cock. Draco was shifting himself consciously, making himself comfortable with the fairly large thing currently embedded in his body, and Harry took mercy, finally sure that Draco was at peace with the language of serpents and power.

*I can’t imagine anything better than this…than us…together. I love you desperately, Draco.*

Draco’s head lolled back to the floor, and a moan slid from him as his body relaxed, and Harry could feel the difference immediately, feeling no tension or resistance and he began to slide out of, and then back into, Draco’s waiting body. He slid his hand across the silk of Draco’s flushed cheeks.

*I always dreamed of what it would be like to be loved, and you made it real. I love you so much.*

Draco’s cock twitched wildly, and even in his semi-lucid state, his features bespoke a restless desire to come. Harry held Draco’s limp legs carefully, pacing his journey into Draco’s body as reasonably as he could…given that he wanted nothing more than to explode into Draco and promptly collapse.

*You’re perfect to me. In every way. I will never betray you. I will never abandon you. I’m utterly and completely yours, Draco, and I don’t ever want to be anything else.*

Draco keened softly, legs trembling slightly in Harry’s grasp, and his mouth became a sudden ‘O’ of pleasure. The handsome prick that lay between them pulsed and tensed, and short jets of white slashed across Draco’s chest and stomach. Only soft gasps escaped Draco’s lips the entire time, and Harry watched in mute awe, seeing for the first time what it was like to see a lover take pleasure from him in this role.

His own body rebelled, excited by Draco’s pliancy and softness, and fired by the sight of Draco’s spontaneous orgasm. Harry uttered a final, guttural promise of love before he lost control, and felt himself coming inside Draco’s inviting warmth. The head of his cock came truly alive, embraced by the soft muscles of a lover’s body for the first time, and Harry groaned piteously as the sensations overwhelmed him. It was magnificent, and in those seconds of fleeting ecstasy, he was aware of nothing, absolutely nothing, but the lean and beautiful blond that writhed beneath him.

Harry leaned downward, brushing his lips across Draco’s, then along the downy cheek, and eventually to the slender throat and neck so attractively exposed by Draco’s shuddering, and thoroughly spent, frame. He paused when he reached the shell of Draco’s ear, and whispered in plain speech at last.

“Thank you, love. Thank you for showing me this. That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t even imagine having done that with anyone but you. I love you, Draco.”

Draco recovered his power of speech, the last traces of Parseltongue’s influence leaving him lucid, albeit sated and giddy, beneath Harry. Draco took those words of Harry’s to heart, and with tears of joy trickling down his face, took Harry’s face in his hands.

“Stupid Gryffindor.” Under the giddy tone was something a shade more serious. A glint of something like enlightenment came into Draco’s eyes. There in the firelight and the drowsy, sweaty warmth of lovers at rest, Draco had an epiphany, and looked at Harry with an openness, an innocence and sincerity that had been missing for far too long from his face.

There were things that Draco did not say without the greatest of care, words that never crossed his lips, saved for some future occasion that merited their use. In the world of Slytherin and Malfoy, weakness was always exploited, and mere words were always suspect. The last remnants of a lifetime’s training slid away…and Draco Malfoy finally spoke with his heart. 

“I love you, Harry.” 

And so he did, both long and well, through joys and sorrows, triumph and loss. No happy moment was ever without later equal, and no pain was without end. It was a fine and long life spent together without regret, and none that knew them dared to gainsay their right to that happiness, for they knew that life is an ancient story, written upon the pages of time with an ink of blood, sweat, tears and come, and the only thing both fleeting and yet enduring immortally…is love.

 

FIN


End file.
